


Hollowing Souls

by casti3l



Series: I See Fire [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel!oc, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2016-07-20
Packaged: 2018-04-14 16:34:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 46
Words: 412,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4571703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casti3l/pseuds/casti3l
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two years ago, Alex fell into this world of monsters, demons, and angels. And now, she herself is one of them. How will she manage with her new identity? With heaven at war and Castiel in the middle of it all, will she be able to save her mate, or will she die trying? </p><p>Seasons 6&7.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Far Frome Home

**...**

**Okay, just a few things. This chapter is really a continuation of the last story, I just didn't include it because what I had before was such a good cliffhanger :) The story really restarts next chapter.**

**I'll only be posting season 6, so to stretch it out I'll be posting every other day.**

**That's all for now. Enjoy!**

**Oh, and if you haven't done so already, I would suggest you read the first part of this series, which is called And I Hope That You'll Remember Me.**

**...**

* * *

**June 20th, 2010**

**A** lex stepped through the front door, breathing a sigh of relief. She must had thrown off the demons. Of course, this is definitely where they'd expect her to be. She locked the front door, cursing the fact that, apart from the downstairs bathroom next to her, it was the only door that locked. Hurrying into the kitchen, she dropped her bag. She placed her Colt 1911 on table, checking it one more time. She felt her knife in her pocket and pulled it out, flicking out the blade. She smiled, putting it back in her pocket. She pulled off her jacket and dirty black  _Hell Hazers II_  t-shirt, and pulled on some maroon three-quarter sleeve shirt and a forest green plaid sweatshirt, ignoring the strange sensation as the clothing passed through her wings. She had just started rolling up her clothes when she heard a noise, and her mind started to wheel.

"Okay," she started to plan out loud. "I need salt. Salt, iron. Devil's trap." The panic room. Iron walls coated with salt, and stocked with all the shotguns and ammunition she would need.

There were two footsteps upstairs. Forgetting her backpack, she grabbed her smaller bag containing her journal and other things and tore through the study and the hall. The back door opened, and a demon stepped through, black eyes gleaming. Alex panicked, and, in an act of desperation, reached out, placing her palm over the demon's face. Her fear and panic mingled with her grace as it raced down her arm and into the demon. White light flared out of his face, and he crumpled to the ground dead. Alex just ran. She ran down the rickety stairs and towards the panic room. She reached for the iron handle, throwing the door open. Then everything went black.

 

 **S** he came to in a dark room. She tested her limbs: bound tight. Memories came flooding back, and Alex panicked. She struggled at her bonds, but to no avail. She fought to control her breathing, forcing herself to take deep breaths. She recognized the room immediately. A single, bare bulb hung from the ceiling. A bed sat against the wall to her left, and there was a table in front of her.

"Ah. Home sweet home."

Alex's head swiveled towards the voice, and her wings flared angrily. A low growl rumbled through her chest to hide her fear.  _Crowley_.

The demon strolled forward. "You know, you've given me a hell of a time tracking you down. Was that a demon-proof room? Very clever."

Alex swallowed nervously, but her eyes remained cold. "What the hell do you want?"

Crowley ignored her hostile tone. "I think you know, darling. I told you I would find you. Perhaps going to Bobby's wasn't the best of your plans, hmm?"

"Safest place I got," Alex snapped, then clamped her jaw shut. She glared up at the demon.

Crowley leaned against the table, but didn't respond. "Now. I have to admit I'm a bit surprised. After that trick you pulled in Brandon, we lost sight of you. I had demons staked out along the roads. Even still, you managed to make it all the way into Sioux Falls. Impressive indeed."

Alex refused to say anything.  _Castiel_ , she prayed.  _Please, Cas. Please help me. I - Crowley found me. I don't know where I am. He's, he's gonna . . . just help me._

There's no point in praying," Crowley continued, seeing her silence. "This place is warded against angels. No angels can get in, no angels can get out without my say so. Although, I suppose it wouldn't matter. He won't answer you, darling. We made a deal, you see."

Alex knew what he meant, but refused to show it. She just cocked her eyebrow, asking him to continue.

"You've probably heard about the war. About how Raphael is kicking your mate around like a rag doll. So I offered him a little soul-making opportunity."

"Purgatory."

"You've heard of it." Crowley approached, interest flashing in his dark eyes. "What exactly do you know about it?"

"Nothing," Alex lied smoothly. "Just that it's a monster's hell. Literally."

A hand came down heavily across her cheek. "Don't you lie to me," Crowley growled. He grabbed her throat, forcing her face to look at his. "There's no angel here to protect you now."

"Crowley." The door was thrown open. "I told you not to hurt her."

Alex's heart melted in relief, and her wings flattened submissively at the sound of her mate. She craned her neck to see, but couldn't quite turn that far. She let out a whimper, pulling her wings in close. Crowley rolled his eyes at Castiel's entrance.

The angel strolled over to her, brushing Crowley out of the way. Alex looked up into the beautiful blue eyes of her mate. " _Le pas enay_ ," Castiel murmured gently. "Has he hurt you?"

Alex couldn't manage words, and just closed her eyes. She heard Crowley sigh loudly in annoyance. "Castiel. If you don't mind, I was in the middle of something."

"You told me you wouldn't hurt her," Castiel snapped, turning around. "What is she doing here?"

"I  _own_  her, Castiel. Finders keepers. I've owned her for a while now. Except someone escaped from the last angel I was going to give her to."

"You already given me to him," Alex snapped.

"The lease wasn't up!" Crowley snapped back. "He didn't own you for another six days."

Alex bared her teeth in frustration. "I'm not an object to be bought and sold," she growled.

She was ignored. "She is not yours," Castiel said, and his wings flared out angrily. "She's mine."

Crowley stood up straighter, his eyes flickering between Alex and Castiel contemplatively. "I believe you're mistaken," the demon said calmly. "I own her now." When Castiel took a menacing step forward, Crowley added, "Ah ah. Remember our deal."

"She was not part of the deal."

"Yes. You really missed out on that one. Could've given her full immunity. Anyways, if I give her to you, what would you even do with her?"

"I'll give her back to Dean."

"Dammit, Cas. I'm not an object you can 'give'!" Alex snapped.

"Be quiet."

"Give it up, Castiel. And don't you worry. I'll give her to a good angel. He'll take good care of her. If you want, I'll let you go over the applicants."

A low growl rumbled in the male angel's chest.

"You can't take her back to heaven," Crowley continued. "And she's not safe alone on earth."

"She'll be fine alone," Castiel said quietly.

"Really, Castiel. I expected more from you. She's a female angel. They have needs."

"She is quite stable on her own," Castiel growled. "She hasn't been around another angel for a month."

Crowley frowned. "She can't keep it up for long, Castiel. Somehow, someone is going to find her."

Castiel shook his head again.

"Now tell me — not that you actually get a say. But, hypothetically, wouldn't it be easier if I sold her off? She’s an expensive bargaining chip, Castiel. She goes to an angel you choose, and we use the souls to help fund your little war.” 

Castiel's wings flared high, finally fed up with the demon. "I said no. She is not yours." 

Crowley shook his head. "Fine, if you wish, I will let her go. For now. But I will find her again, and I will sell her. You know as much as I do how valuable she is. And next time, I’ll keep all the profit for myself.” 

Castiel turned to look down at Alex. She looked back up at him, silently pleading. He was so close she could almost touch him. Castiel blinked. "Untie her."

The bonds fell away, and Alex jumped up, hugging Castiel tight. She burying her face in his coat, breathing ragged.

"Is she always this clingy?" Crowley asked mildly. He was ignored.

A hand came to rest on her back, keeping her near.

"You're not seriously going to take her with you, are you Cassie?"

"No. She's not safe in heaven. I can take her back to Dean."

"Didn't you hear? Dean tossed her out. Said he didn't want an angel in the house." Alex heard the table groan as the demon leaned against it.

Castiel didn't immediately reply. "Then I'll take her to Bobby Singer."

Crowley clicked his tongue. "I'm still going to find her, Castiel. She wasn't part of the deal, which means she's free profit."

Alex felt her mate shift his weight from one foot to another. "Give me five minutes with her. Alone."

Alex looked up to see Crowley gone. Castiel stepped away, and Alex frowned. She opened her mouth to speak.

"Don't." Castiel looked down at her, and Alex obediently said nothing. "Do you know what's going on here?"

Alex nodded slowly. "You and Crowley are looking for Purgatory."

"Do you know where it is?"

Alex shook her head. "No, and I don't want to. Cas, seriously. You should stop looking for that place now."

"It's the only way." Castiel's blue eyes flickered with emotion. "I — We're losing the war, Alex. Raphael is strong. Stronger than I imagined. I, I thought that because I stood up to Michael and Lucifer, I could do the same with Raphael. I was wrong. This is the only way."

Alex shook her head, even though deep down she knew he was right. "I — please don't. I don't want to lose you."

"You won't."

Alex looked up, wrapping her arms around her mate. "Please be careful."

Castiel didn't hug her back. "I don't know what to do," he finally admitted. "With you, I mean. Crowley is right. He found you once, he can do it again." He looked down at his angel. "What should I do?"

Alex stepped back, heart sinking. "What do you mean?"

"I mean I can't protect you. Not from both Raphael and Crowley. Perhaps it would be best if I let him trade you — just for a short time," he quickly added. "Just to keep you safe. You're already stable. You just need someone to protect you." His eyes narrowed, and his blue wings flared. Then he was gone.

Alex stared at the spot he had left from, thoroughly confused. He was going to let Crowley sell her? No. No, that can't be what he meant.

"Sit down." Crowley's voice reached her ears, and she spun around, fists balled. Crowley remained unfazed. "Do us all a favor, darling, and don't do this. We both know who has the upper hand."

Alex let out a huff, but obliged. "What?"

"Your mate has agreed to my terms. I know, shocking." Crowley leaned against the table. "He's thumbing through the list of potential mates right now."

Alex closed her eyes, shaking her head. He was lying. Crowley was lying.

 

 **F** our weeks. That's how long she had to stay there. She was left in her prison cell, waiting. Castiel rarely visited her.

One day, Castiel appeared. Crowley looked up from where he was studying Alex. He had been a regular occurrence, Crowley. Most of the time he said nothing; he just stood there, deep in thought. However, upon the angel's arrival he cleared his throat. "Ah, Cassie. Found someone you like?"

Castiel turned to the demon. "Balthazar is no longer alive," he informed him. "He's been dead for almost a month."

Crowley raised an eyebrow. "I don't think so. He put in that offer only five or so days ago."

Castiel frowned, angry. Then he met Alex's gaze. "Then I choose him."

"Balthazar?" It was Crowley's turn to frown. "Couldn't you pick someone with a higher offer?"

"This is my choice." Castiel remained adamant. "He was in my garrison, and I believe I can trust him."

Crowley rolled his eyes dramatically. "Fine. There were worse angels, I suppose. Now, Castiel, I will leave you to say goodbye. I will contact Balthazar immediately." Then he was gone.

Castiel turned to face Alex. She lowered her gaze, shaking her head. Castiel knelt beside her. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice low and soft, his voice making Alex miss him even more.

She threw her arms around his neck. "Don't leave me," she begged. "You promised, Castiel. You - you said you'd never give me up for anything."

Castiel clutched her tighter. "I know,  _le pas enay_. But if you stay with me, you. will. die. Don't you understand?" He pulled back to look her in the face. "I love you, and I promised to keep you safe. And if that means letting you go so you will live, I —" He blinked, shaking his head. "I'm sorry." He hugged her dearly, curling his wings tightly around her. "Lucifer's keeping you stable," he whispered. "Balthazar won't push you if you fight back, okay? Tell him why I chose him." He kissed her forehead gently. "I  _will_  come back for you."

Alex nodded. "I know."

The door flew open. "Cassie? Awkward. Didn't expect to find you here." Balthazar strolled in. He scented the air, and his wings arched high with interest at the scent of the female angel. "It's Alex, right?"

Alex said nothing, but kept her head buried in Castiel's coat.

"Hm. Never really struck me as the silent type. Why don't you let go of your boyfriend in the trench coat and come over here?"

Castiel gently nudged her towards the angel. Alex dug in her heels. "Alex." Castiel's voice was low and soft. "Go with him."

Alex shook her head, wings trembling slightly. Balthazar stepped closer, holding out his hand. Alex took it. Then they were gone.

 

 **T** he next thing she knew, she was in a house. "Leave me alone," she whispered, flaring her one good wing.

Balthazar blinked slowly. "Excuse me?" He stepped closer. "You have no right to talk to me like that." His wings flared high, and Alex, instincts taking hold, lowered hers. The angel ran a hand down her arm, and Alex shivered. The other hand tipped her head to both sides, fingers running over her neck and shoulders. "Not bonded, hmm? Good. Like Crowley promised."

"No," Alex protested, pushing him away. "Cas, Cas said no."

" 'Cas said no?' " Balthazar repeated, eyebrow raised. "And that's suppose to mean something to me?" he chuckled. "You're not his, love. Neither of us are. So why should we listen?"

Blue eyes met hers, and Alex shied away. "No." She tried to push him away. "I-I — Castiel is mine, I, I'm his."

"You're not."

"No!"

"No." Balthazar tipped his head, studying her. Then he shrugged. "Cas was right. You are strong." He turned and sauntered off up a large flight of stairs.

"Wait." Alex followed, completely bewildered by the sudden change of heart. "W-What? Is — is that fucking it?"

"Yep. A female angel would be nice, but if you're gonna scream the whole way down . . ." Balthazar shook his head, but didn't bother to look back at her. "It's not worth it. I can find cuter girls."

Alex frowned. Part of her was was relieved he wasn't pushing her; then again, the angel part of her was deeply hurt that he rejected her. "So . . . I can go? I— I'm still really confused here."

"Nope. You're still going to stay. This place is about as under the radar as you get." Balthazar disappeared into a large living area. "So get comfy. You're not leaving."

Alex sat down on the couch, eyes focusing on the far wall. "How long will I be here?"

"Until it's safe. Or until Cas is dead." With a snap of his fingers, a glass of whiskey appeared in the angel's hands. "This is the only shelter in the storm, darling. No one knows we're here. Only Cas and that black-eyed friend of his knows I'm even alive."

"Great." Alex's head lolled back in disgust and boredom. "So I'm on lockdown? And you're the only freaking company I get?"

"Afraid so." Balthazar leaned against the wall. "But don't worry. I won't be here much." And with those words, he was gone.


	2. The Third Man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I know I said I'd be posting every other day, but I can't post tomorrow because I'm going on an all day trip to the Mall of America with the international students from my college. So instead of making you wait until Sunday, I'll be posting today _and_ Sunday. Yay!

**11 months later . . .**

**August 19th, 2011**

**A** lex ran down the white flowing stairs, jumping over the balcony half way down to land on the marble floor below. She tore down the hall and slid into the kitchen. It was empty, so she grabbed a bowl out of the cabinet, found the milk and cereal, then dropped down at the island, making breakfast. 

Suddenly the box of Lucky Charms disappeared, and Alex looked up to see Balthazar leaning against the wall, arms crossed, cereal in his hands. 

“No fair!” Alex exclaimed, pouting. “Your wings work.”

“Your wings are almost healed,” Balthazar shot back. He approached, dropping the box of cereal on the island. “You should be able to fly within a few months.” He flicked his own wings for emphasis, and light sparkled off of the amber feathers.

Alex sighed. She had been living with Balthazar for the past eleven months. There had been no sign of Castiel, and no news from the Winchesters. No news of anything from the outside world, actually. Just her and Balthazar. Not that she minded him anymore. He could be very good company. 

Light fingers ghosted over her wings, and Alex turned her head. Her left wing was mobile, but was nowhere near strong enough to fly. It was also slightly deformed, and would always be that way. Alex could only pray that it would work. She was pulled out of her thoughts as the angel pulled her cereal away from her. “Hey!” 

“How can you eat these things?” The angel made a face. “They taste of sugar and chemicals.” 

“Well, my sense of taste isn’t as developed as yours.” Alex pulled her food back. “And for your information, I _like_ sugar and chemicals.” To prove her point, she took a large bite. 

Balthazar rolled his eyes dramatically. “I’ll never understand humans.” Then he was gone. 

Alex wolfed down the rest of her cereal then ran up the stairs. She leaned against the doorway, breathing heavily. “Stop doing that,” she panted. “Not cool.” 

Balthazar was sitting in the open window, staring outwards into the backyard. He turned at the sound of her voice. “Do what?” 

“Disappearing during conversations.” Alex staggered into the room and flopped down on an unused bed. “First you threaten to take my food, then you just leave before I’m done talking.”

“I was done talking.” Balthazar turned his attention back out the window. “When are you going to learn Enochian? _T bol a gone turs._ ”

 _It is a language beautiful._ His words translated roughly in her mind. “I can understand it,” she told him. “I just can’t speak it.” 

“Well, you should learn.” 

“But won’t I learn naturally? I can already understand it.” 

“Vous pouvez me comprendre si je parle en français,” Balthazar rambled off. “Vous pouvez comprendre toutes les langues.” 

_You can understand me if I talk in French. You can understand every language._ Once again, the words translated. “So . . .”

“So just because you can understand different languages doesn’t mean you can speak them.” And with that, Balthazar flared his amber wings and disappeared. 

Alex rolled her eyes. “Bitch.” 

“Heard that,” a voice breathed in her ear, but when Alex turned, there was nothing.

“Alex?” 

Alex’s heart leapt to her throat, and she turned. “Dean?” 

Nothing. Alex tipped her head, sure she had faintly heard the hunter’s voice. She shook the thought away. She was going crazy being locked up here. With a heaving sigh, disappeared back downstairs.

 

 **A** hand wrapped itself around her mouth, and Alex panicked, jumping to her feet. “Quiet!” Balthazar’s low voice sounded next to her ear. 

_What the actual hell?_ Alex prayed angrily to him. _You think you’re fucking funny—_

“I said quiet.” Balthazar tightened his grip. “There’s an angel downstairs.” His grace pushed against hers in a silent explanation of how. “He hasn’t pinpointed me yet, but will soon.” He shoved her towards the corner. “Stay there and stay quiet.” 

“I can help.” 

Balthazar chuckled. “This is one of Raphy’s men. You don’t stand a chance.” An angel blade slipped into his hand, and he winked at her. “I’ll take care of him. I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve.” Then he was gone. 

It was barely a minute later when Alex heard a scuffle, followed by voices. Then there was a scream, that cut off in a choking noise quite rapidly. Alex stood up, unsure what was happening. She approached the door.

“I told you to stay put.” Balthazar appeared behind her. Alex spun around at the voice to find an angel blade pointed straight at her heart. 

“S-Sorry,” she stuttered out, trying to sidestep the blade. 

Balthazar shifted, keeping the tip pressed against her shirt. Then he flicked it up in the air, catching it by the blade. “For you.” 

Alex took the angel blade by the handle. “Uh . . . thanks?” 

“There’s another angel on his way.” Balthazar slid his own angel blade back up into his jacket. “He shouldn’t be much of a problem. Might even take a fancy to you.”

Alex followed the angel into the large entry room that sat at the top of the staircase. “Okay — whoa.” A large grand piano sat opposite the large double doors. However, the immediate thing that caught her attention was the angel laying at her feet. Wine-colored wings spread out across the floor. “He’s not dead.”

“Nope. Not yet.” Balthazar simply stepped over him. “Come along.” 

Alex quickly followed. “What should I do with this?” She gestured with the angel blade vaguely. 

“It’s yours.” 

“Yeah, I got that. Where do I keep it?” 

With a dramatic eye roll, the angel turned. “Must I teach you everything?”

“Apparently.” Alex glanced at her sleeves. “I like my sleeves rolled up, and I don’t even know how to keep it there.” 

“Keep it wherever you like.” Balthazar’s angel blade slipped into his hand. “Use your grace to grasp and anchor it there.” 

Alex retreated over towards the couch. She reached out weakly with her grace, trying to anchor it to the angel blade. She assumed it would be difficult, but the second her grace came in contact with the metal surface, they combined. With a startled thought, her grace pulled away. She reached out again, and they connected easily. “Cool.”

“Hm-mm.” With a snap of his fingers, soft music filled the room. 

Alex looked up as the room was doused with moving colors. She blinked. “Really? Disco is dead. Disco balls died with it.” 

Balthazar winked at her. “Just preparing for company.” With another wave of his hand, a glass of whiskey appeared in his hand. 

Alex grunted, but turned her attention back to the angel blade. She stood up, and slowly slid the blade down the side of her jeans, the hilt resting just above the hips. She felt the metal slide against her skin, and hesitantly let go, grasping it with her grace. 

She dropped her hands to her side. The angel blade stayed securely where she left it. She moved her leg. The blade moved flawlessly with her. “Whoa. Awesome.” 

“It’s a remarkable weapon,” Balthazar agreed. He leaned against the piano, watching her. “As long as it’s connected to your grace, it will move as you move.”

“It won’t, like, cut me?” 

“No.”

Alex pulled the blade out, her grace making the withdrawal quick and simple. She raised the weapon above her head. “Could I keep it on my back?” she wondered aloud. She heard Balthazar snort in amusement, but didn’t pay any attention. She slid the blade down her back. Like before, her grace held it still. She moved, then bent her spine slightly. A grin lit up her face. She felt the blade still pressed against her skin; it was literally bending as she did. “Dude.” She straightened up, then reached behind her back. Her grace pulled the blade into her hand, and she brought it over her head, brandishing it.

Balthazar’s wings flared out. “Company’s here. Go in the other room,” he suggested. “Just until I know this angel isn’t here for you, alright?” He winked at her, but Alex felt the seriousness in his tone. 

She nodded. “Yeah. Sure thing.” Alex stepped out of the room, leaning against the hallway wall. She slumped to the ground, straining her ears to listen. 

 

 **A** minute passed. Then two. Alex took the moment to glance into the room. It was completely empty. Now unnerved, Alex reached behind her back, retrieving her angel blade. She flinched as the blade brushed her neck on the draw, and she reached up, but found no blood. She could have sworn she had scraped herself hard enough to bleed. 

The opening of a door had her pressed flat against the wall, wings pulled tightly against her back. She heard movement, and felt the familiar air of an angel’s grace, but refused to reach out with her own to touch it. The door closed, and she held her breath. 

“Cas.” Balthazar’s soft, smooth voice reached her ears. “You’re here.” 

“Balthazar.” Alex almost melted at the familiar sound of her angel’s voice, deep and rough in comparison. Eleven months without the sound of his voice; it had been too long.

“It’s so good to see you. He told me you were . . . floating around.” 

_He?_

“He?” Castiel voice her confusion. 

“I believe you two have flown together,” Balthazar chuckled. The lights stopped, and so did the music. He continued. “Oh, you know, the old frog in his throat.” 

At those words, Alex saw the angel on the ground twitch slightly. She silently shuffled away, unsure. Then there was the sound of a ribbit. Alex internally groaned at her friend’s ill-humored joke. Deeming it safe, she stood up, peering into the room. 

Castiel stood in the center of the room, attention focused on Balthazar, who was currently leaning against the piano. “Even I know that’s a bad joke,” he told the angel.

Alex voice her agreement. “It made me cringe.” 

Castiel immediately turned his attention to Alex. His wings flared out wide in joy, even though his voice remained steady. “Alex.” 

“Hey, Cas.” Alex approached, voice quiet. She stopped in front of the two angels. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

“The angels still think I’m dead,” Balthazar informed the seraphim. “They won’t come looking for me. For us.” 

Castiel looked around the room. “What . . . what is this?” he finally asked. “What are you doing?” 

The angel grinned. “Whatever I want. This morning I had a ménage à — what’s the French word for twelve?” 

Castiel looked uncomfortable, while Alex just huffed in disbelief. “Please. I highly doubt there are twelve people in the world who would want to have sex with you,” she joked amiably. 

Balthazar raised an eyebrow. “Well you’ve obviously never seen me in bed.”

Castiel cleared his throat, and Alex felt his grace push against hers. She turned her attention away from her friend. “How’s the war going?” she asked quietly. “Can I come home?” 

Castiel studied her for several seconds. “You can’t come home,” he finally murmured. “It’s still not safe. You can stay here, or . . . or you can stay with the Winchesters.”

“Sam’s back?”

“He is.” 

Alex grinned. “That’s amazing!” She lowered her voice. “I haven’t seen them in almost a year.” 

Balthazar coughed slightly, drawing Castiel’s attention back to him. “I assume you’re here for a reason.”

Castiel nodded curtly. “You stole the Staff of Moses?” 

“Sure, sure.” Balthazar walked up to Castiel, stopping only a few inches from him. He added smugly, “I stole a _lot_ of things.” 

“You were a great and honorable soldier.” Castiel’s eyes narrowed in confusion as Balthazar walked away. “We fought together.” 

The angel focused on the far wall. “Yes, too many times to count.”

“I know. You’re not some common thief.” 

Balthazar turned around. “Common? No. Thief? Eh.” He took a sip of his drink. “You trusted me enough with your precious angel.”

The seraph’s wings twitched in disapproval. “Alex could take care of herself. She just needed you to keep her hidden.” Castiel ignored Alex’s huff. “That’s not why I’m here. I need your help.” 

“I know. I’ve been hearing all about you, and as far as I’m concern, you and me, Cas, nothing’s changed. We’re brothers. Of course I’ll help you.” 

“Thank you. I need the weapons.” 

“Don’t ask _that_.” 

“Why take them? Why run away?” 

“Because I _could_!” Balthazar looked over at Alex. She just rolled his eyes. “What?” He turned back to Cas. “What? I, me — you’re the one who made this possible. The footstep’s I’m following — they’re yours. What you did, stopping the big plan, the prize fight? You did more than rebel. You tore up the script and burned it pages for all of us.” He let out a laugh. “It’s a new era. No rules, no destiny. Just utter and complete freedom.” 

“Rules are there for a reason,” Alex pointed out, her tone of voice clearly communicating that they had had this conversation before.

Balthazar glanced over at her. “You know I don’t like rules.” 

“And this is what you do with your freedom?” 

“Hey, screw it, right? I mean, dad’s not coming back. You might as well blow coke and jump on the bed. You proved to me we can do anything, so I’m trying _everything_. What difference does it make?”

Alex ran a hand through her blonde hair, biting her lip. They had had this fight several times before, and each angel was as different and as firm in their beliefs as the other. Alex knew their Father was coming back. He _would_ come home. Balthazar refused to believe it. He insisted rules only held him back, and that he could do anything. 

Cas’ words pulled her out of her thoughts. “What’s the diff — it’s civil war up there!” he snapped. 

“I know.” 

“If we can beat Raphael, we can end this! Just give me the weapons.” 

Balthazar laughed. scornfully. “You know what’s funny about you? You actually believe you can stop the fighting.” He grew somber. “It. Will. Never. Stop. My advice — grab something valuable and fake your death.” 

A growl rumbled in Castiel’s chest. “You’ve gone insane.”

“Tell me about it,” Alex grumbled.

“Your little holiday is over,” Castiel continued. “Raphael knows you're alive by now.” 

“Oh, Raphael can try me anytime.” Balthazar’s feathers ruffled in anger. “I’m armed. I’m sorry, Cas. All else aside, I am really, really happy to see you. Even though you still have that stick up your ass.” 

Alex smiled, the small chuckle that left her lips drowned out by a crash of thunder. The vibrations left her wings tingling, and Alex pulled them in uncomfortably. 

Balthazar felt it too. “Was that you?” When Castiel shook his head, he nodded. “Well, that’s my cue then. Tell, uh, Raphael to bite me.” Then he was gone as another flash of lighting and thunder shook the house. The lights flickered and died.

Alex watched the flash of amber feathers as the angel flew away. Then she turned into Castiel’s arms. “I missed you so much,” she whispered, burying her head in his neck. 

Castiel gently pushed her away. “Now’s not a good time.” His wings flared wide. “They’ve found us.” 

Alex pulled her angel blade out from behind her back, twirling it in her hand. “Balthazar,” she whispered when she saw Castiel’s confusion. 

He shook his head. “I can’t have you fight.” He reached for her blade, but Alex held it out of reach. “Alex.” His voice deepened to a growl. “You’re not strong enough.” 

“You always say that!” 

“Because it’s always true.” Castiel’s blue eyes flashed. “Alex. These aren’t just commonplace angels. Raphael will have sent his best soldiers, if he hasn’t come himself.” And with that, he slipped out of the room, feet silent on the floor. “He’s here.” 

Alex hesitated. She shifted her grip on her weapon, unsure. She stepped closer to door. There was a scuffle down below, and she peered around the corner. Then there was a hand over her mouth, and Alex screamed, struggling. The ground shifted, and then Alex was standing in front of Castiel. His wings flared wide in anger. “Raphael. Let her go.” 

The angel behind her chuckled. “I think not, Castiel.” Something cold and metallic pressed against her throat, and Alex flinched away from the blade with a small whimper. _Cas_ , she prayed. _Help me._

Castiel’s eyes flashed with desperation. “She’s not a part of this.”

“Oh, she is. And she doesn’t stand by me, so she is against me. I promised this would happen, Castiel.” 

_Balthazar_. Alex closed her eyes, shaking. _Please come back. Help me._

An irritated sigh filled her mind. _I’m gone for two minutes —_

_This isn’t fucking funny! Help me._

_Keep your eyes closed._

_B. Please —_

_Do as I say._ “Hey!” This time the voice reached her ears. “Look at my junk.” 

“No!” She heard a cry from the archangel beside her, and then something changed. The hand around her mouth grew solid and cold. The next second, it dissolved around her. 

Alex blinked open her eyes, looking down. All that remained was a white pile of what looked almost to be salt. 

Balthazar confirmed her suspicions. “Same thing happened to Lot’s wife. Iodize the poor sucker, and your kitchen is stocked for life.” 

Alex stepped away, wings pinned tightly against her back in fear. 

“You came back.” Castiel stepped closer to Alex, wing reaching out to comfort her. 

“Of course. You needed my help.” Balthazar’s gaze found Alex, and she let out a small smile of thanks. The angel’s wings ruffled slightly in acceptance. “Well, now Raphael will have to go shopping for a new vessel. Should give me a nice long head start on him.” He dipped his head slightly. “Until next time.” 

“Next time,” Castiel repeated. 

“No time like the present,” said a new, yet familiarly old voice. Alex spun around to see Dean flick open a lighter and toss it at Balthazar’s feet. She jumped back as there was a whoosh of flames. 

“Holy fire.” Balthazar’s wings flared high in anger. “You hairless ape! Release me!” 

“First you take your marker off of Aaron Birch’s soul!” 

“Soul? What?” Alex blinked in confusion. “B —”

“Am I?!” Balthazar didn’t even look at her. 

“Sam!” Dean called his brother’s name over his shoulder. 

“Unless you like your wings extra crispy,” Sam stepped up from behind Alex. She turned around as he unscrewed the cork of a jug, “I’d think about it.” Alex could smell the holy oil in the jar, and she shifted closer to Castiel. 

Balthazar turned on the angel. “Castiel, I stood with you in heaven. Are you going to let —”

Castiel cut him off. “I believe . . . the hairless ape has the floor.” 

Balthazar let out a small laugh, but that sounded forced. “Very well.” He took a deep breath, and brought his clasped hands up to his forehead. His wings glowed briefly with his grace, then it faded. “The boy’s debt is cleared. His soul is his own.”

“ ‘Soul is his own’?” Alex repeated. “B, what are you talking about?” 

“He’s buying human souls,” Dean growled. He turned to the angel. “Why are you doing that anyways?”

“In this economy?” Balthazar huffed. “It’s probably the only thing worth buying. Do you have any idea what souls are worth? Now. Release me.” 

“Suck it, ass clown.” Dean snapped back. 

“Dean.” Alex turned to the hunter. “Let him go. Please.” 

Suddenly the flames lowered, and disappeared. Dean glared past her. “Cas. What the hell?” 

Castiel spoke directly to Balthazar. “My debt to you has been cleared.” 

Balthazar snorted. “Fair enough.” He flared his wings high, then took off upwards, disappearing from sight. His voice rang in Alex’s head as he passed. _Until next time._

“Cas, are you out of your mind?” Dean exploded, turning on the angel, eyes flashing. 

“Take care of her.” Then Castiel was gone, leaving Alex alone with the Winchesters. 

“Cas?!” Dean yelled after him. “Oh, fucking angels. Come on!” He turned to face Alex, and some of the fire in his eyes died. “Hey.” 

“Hey.” Alex scuffled her feet nervously. “Long time no see, huh?” 

Dean suddenly stepped forward, pulling her into a hug. “I’m glad you’re okay,” he whispered before pulling away. “You scared me when Bobby couldn’t find you.”

“It’s not important.” Alex shyly turned to look up at Sam. “H . . . How are you doing?”

Sam shrugged. “I’m fine.” 

He wasn’t fine. Alex knew he wasn’t. He looked . . . wrong. She squinted as she noticed that his eyes were duller than normal, the greens almost blending with the browns. However, she just nodded. “I’m glad. You don’t . . .”

“Nope.” 

The house creaked, and Alex jumped, grace pushing outwards, searching for an angel. She felt nothing. 

Dean however, wasn’t able to search the house, so he quickly moved towards the back door. “We should go.” 

“Okay.” 

 

 **A** lex slid into the backseat of the Impala. She ran light fingers over the leather, a smile on her lips. “It’s been too long,” she murmured as the two Winchesters closed their doors. 

“So, how have you been?” Dean started up a conversation the minute the engine purred to life. “Better question: what were you doing with that douchebag?” 

Alex’s wings raised slightly in offense. “He’s not a douchebag,” she defended. “He’s a really nice angel, once you get to know him.” She fell back against the seat. A small chuckle left her lips at her next thought. “I was almost to the panic room when the demons caught me. Literally had my hand on the door handle. Then . . . everything went black. Next thing I know, Crowley’s there.” 

Dean growled out a curse under his breath. “I swear. The next time I see him . . .”

“Cas was able to . . . sway Crowley to sell me to Balthazar.” 

“Cas was there?” That caught Dean’s attention. “Why?”

 

Alex shook her head. “He’s trying to win the war,” she admitted. “And he’ll do anything to stop Raphael.” 

“Apparently.” 

“B saved my life,” Alex snapped. “He’s not the best angel, I get that. And he’s a little bit of a dick. But his heart’s in the right place. He really does try.” _I think._

When neither Sam or Dean responded, Alex turned her attention to outside the window with a small sigh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, one last thing. If you liked _And I Hope That You'll Remember Me,_ you should totally go vote for it in the Inkitt contest. (link below.) It's literally one click, but I would really appreciate it a lot! Thank you! (I'm currently sitting about 87th place because I only have 5 votes haha)
> 
> http://www.inkitt.com/fandom2


	3. Weekend at Bobby's

**August 20th, 2011**

**T** he Winchesters swung by their motel and picked up their things before they started driving again. The sun was halfway above the horizon before Dean pulled off to the side of the dusty highway. “Break?” 

Alex stirred, pulling herself out of her thoughts. “Sure. It’d be nice to stretch my wings.” She saw the Winchesters exchanged looks, and suddenly remembered that it probably sounded strange to the humans. “And legs,” she added quickly, throwing open the door. Her black wings stretched towards the sky, feathers trembling as she spread them even further. 

Dean brushed past her, head momentarily passing through her wing, and Alex pulled them back at the strange sensation. Dean seemed to have felt it too, as he ran a quick hand through his hair. He stopped by the trunk and unlocked it. Alex circled around. “Whoa. It’s packed!” 

Dean was busy rearranging some of the weapons in the weapon’s box. “Yeah, well, I didn’t realize I had this much stuff in here.” 

Sam joined them. “Well, I need some space. Kind of picked up some stuff along the way.” 

“Yeah. Where have you been, anyways?” Alex tipped her head. “How long have you been back?” 

Dean closed the false bottom, and Sam dropped his duffle bag inside. “A year.” 

“A year?” Alex narrowed her eyes in confusion. “Seriously?” 

“What the hell is that?” Sam ignored her and reached into the back of the car. It was a mask, too small for either Winchester, and seemed to be a monster of some sort. 

Dean smiled fondly. “Ben’s halloween costume.” 

“Wendigo?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Accurate.” 

Alex frowned. Her halloween had been spent cooped up with Balthazar. Her last _eleven months_ had been spent cooped up with Balthazar. It was like time had stopped, and she has almost forgotten that life had continued on in the outside world. “Are they okay?” 

“They’re fine.” Dean barely glanced at her, but Alex could sense the sadness in his tone. “Don’t worry.” He closed the trunk and joined Sam leaning against the car. He glanced at Alex, and she nodded, understanding that he wanted a moment alone with his brother. She slipped down the embankment they were parked by and stopped by the trickling creek. 

“Hey, so, uh, . . . are you okay?” she heard Dean asked. 

“Me?” Sam let out a small chuckle. “Yeah, I’m great.” 

“Really?” Dean sounded skeptical. “Cause there’s been a few times that you got me wondering.” 

“Come again?” 

“Well, like where were you when Cas, was, uh, giving the Holy Taser treatment to that kid?” 

“I was right there.” Sam sounded thoroughly confused.

“Really? Cause honestly, I felt like I was the only one raising a car.”

Uh, I mean, I was with you but . . . I don’t know. W-we needed the intel.” 

“Yea, I know, but we tortured that kid to get it.” 

Alex narrowed her eyes in confusion. Neither Winchester had told her what they had been working when they found her, but by what she knew, it sounded like something angelic. Plague-like, almost.

Dean continued. “I just didn’t get the feeling that you — that you even cared.” 

“Y-you’re wrong.” 

_Liar_. The words flashed through Alex’s mind, and she furled her wings down around her in confusion. “He doesn’t have a soul,” she murmured in realization. Right. That’s why his eyes were so dark and so dull. It had to be because his soul was gone. Souls were always so bright. _The eyes are the window to the soul, after all._

“Hey, man,” Dean was saying, “I’m just trying to figure this out because . . . something’s different with you. You know that.” 

“Yeah. Yeah, I know.” 

“Really?”

“Yeah. I mean . . .” Sam’s voice lowered, and Alex strained her ears to hear, “I’ve been hunting non-stop for the past year, kind of . . . kind of on the wild, you know? So, yeah, I suppose I’m a little rough around the edges.” 

Alex blinked. That’s right. There were other people Sam had been hunting with. She narrowed her eyes, thinking. They were related to the Winchesters somehow. The guy was bald, but the only name she could come up with was Sam’s. 

“Yeah, I get that. I just don’t think I’m getting the whole scoop. You went to _hell_ , Sam. And believe me, I know what that does to a guy.” 

“To you.” 

“What?” 

“You know what it does to _you_. It — it tortured _you_. You know? I think it still does. But Dean . . . I’m okay.” 

_Does he even remember hell?_ Alex questioned. She didn’t think he did. Not without his soul. If he had been back a year, his body and memories hadn’t spent much time in hell either. Might be the reason.

“So you’re saying, what, that — that you’re stronger than me?” 

Sam let out a low chuckle. “No. Just saying we’re different.” She heard the sound of thin metal being hit, and then the slam of the car door closing. 

She hurried up the embankment, wings flapping uselessly behind, trying to push her faster. She reached the car just as Dean got into the drivers side and dove into the back seat. “We didn’t have breakfast yet,” she insisted. “I’m hungry.”

“Aren’t angels not suppose to eat?” 

“I like eating,” Alex smiled. “Food is delicious.” She leaned over the seat. “Come on, Sam. When’s the last time you’ve eaten?” 

The hunter shrugged. “It’s been a while.” 

“See?” Alex turned to Dean. “Food.”

“Yeah, yeah. Okay.” 

Alex looked up the window. “Where are we, anyways?” 

“Iowa.” 

“I’ve been living in Iowa?” Alex squinted in confusion. “Seriously? B-But the mansion had trees. I don’t think Iowa has trees.” 

“You didn’t know where you were?”

Alex shrugged. “I wasn’t allowed to leave,” she muttered. “And B never told me.” 

“How are you feeling, by the way?” Dean looked back at her. “You don’t look too bad.” 

“I’m pretty good.” Alex rested her chin on the seat. “I don’t know. A little out of the loop.” 

“Well, we’re only a few hours out from Bobby’s.” Dean added before Alex could protest, “We’re going to get you back into the swing of things, and you probably just need a little downtime, huh?” 

Instead of arguing, Alex just nodded. “You know what? Yeah. I’m a little out of practice. And I haven’t seen Bobby in a really long time.” 

 

**Sioux Falls, South Dakota**

**T** he sun was setting by the time Alex stepped through the front door of Bobby Singer’s house. She inhaled deeply, the familiar smell a comfort to her. “Bobby?” She looked around. The house was exactly the same. The last time she had been here was . . . when? When the zombies were in Sioux Falls? She didn’t count the five minutes she had been there when she was running from Crowley. 

“How’s that?” Bobby stepped into the kitchen. He smiled at the sight of her. “Hey, girl.”

“Hey Bobby.” Alex stepped closer, a large smile gracing her lips. “You’re looking good. Got your legs back.”

“Yeah.” Bobby turned back into the study, and Alex followed. “Thanks to Crowley.” Alex just grunted, wings pulled in tight at the demon’s name. The hunter pointed to a few boxes stacked in the corner. “Dean had your stuff sent down before we realized you were missing.” 

“Thanks.” Those words reminded Alex that she needed her clothes that were still at Balthazar’s. “My phone?”

“Dead, but there.” The hunter’s finger turned to the fridge. Alex hesitantly walked over and opened the fridge. “Not in there,” the hunter said scathingly. “On top. Why would I put your phone in the fridge?” 

“You’ve kept a severed hand in the fridge,” Alex snapped back. “I wouldn’t be surprised.” She reached up and pulled her phone down from the top of the fridge before turning back to Bobby. “So. What’s new with you?”

“I’m trying to get my damn soul back.”

“Crowley’s still got a hold on it?” Alex pulled a stick of string cheese out of the fridge before closing the door. “He didn’t give it back, huh?” She heard the hum of the tv as she entered the study, and glanced towards it to see the news.

“Nope.” Bobby stopped by the desk, where a large wooden bowl that they used for spells sat. “He will soon, though.”  
 “Y-You’re calling him h-here?” Alex took a nervous step back. “Like, now?”

Bobby looked up when he realized the problem. “You wanna go downstairs?” he suggested. “Panic room’s empty.” He turned back to his summoning spell. “I’m going to trap him. He can’t leave till I say so.” 

Alex swallowed. “I’ll stay,” she finally said. “You might need my help,” she joked nervously. “Besides.” She bit her lip. “I’ve learned a bit. I’ll be fine.”

“Suit yourself.” Bobby picked up a large knife and cut open his palm. His blood dripped onto the herbs in the bowl. “ _Et ad congregandum . . . Eos coram me_.” He struck a match and dropped it in the bowl. Alex watched as the flames leapt up in the darkened room.

“Been making merry, have we?” Alex spun around to see Crowley leaning against the kitchen doorway, watching them. 

“Bite me,” Bobby snapped. 

“If that’s your thing,” the demon shrugged. He snapped his fingers and the tv flickered off. “Alex.” He shot the female angel a half-hearted smile. “Your mate around?” 

Alex squared her jaw, but didn’t say anything. 

“I’ll take that as a no.” His dark eyes flickered back over to the hunter. “That swan dive of Sam’s was a thing of beauty. Tens all the way around. Standing ov from the Romanian judge. You should be proud, Bobby. As far as deaths go, it wasn’t too shabby.” Seeing Bobby’s expression, he added, “Cheer up, mate. We just saved the sodding world together. Me, I’ve been celebrating.” 

“I’d hate to see what you call celebrating,” Bobby huffed.

Crowley chuckled. “Yes, you would.” 

“Drink?” Bobby held out a bottle of scotch. 

Crowley looked throughly disgusted. “No!” 

“Wow. Offended much?” Alex huffed. 

“Let me get this straight.” Bobby poured himself a drink. “We just ‘saved the sodding world,’ and you’re too good to have a drink with me?” 

Crowley glanced over at Alex, and she rolled her shoulders. “I’ll be out back,” she muttered, hurrying away. She slipped out the back and ran into the stack of cars. 

 

 **T** here was a growl. Alex jumped, looking for the source. “Hello?” She jumped up onto a car, scanning the field. She let out a whistle, hoping to draw what was mostly likely the stray dog. 

A growl sounded behind her, and she turned. Nothing. No wait. There. There was a flash of black as something dashed towards the house. 

Alex jumped down and took off after it. She tore through the front door and slid into the study just in time to see Bobby on his knees, scraping part of what looked like a glow-in-the-dark devil’s trap. Crowley stood in the middle, arms crossed. Behind him stood a dark shape. Alex couldn’t make it all out — it was like looking through a foggy window, but she immediately knew what it was. Hellhound. 

Bobby stood back up, and Crowley glanced at Alex. “I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he told the hunter as he stalked past him. Alex back up, letting the demon through. He stopped beside her, and her wings flared up defensively. “See you soon,” he said quietly. Then he and the hellhound were gone. 

Alex looked over at Bobby. “What the hell?” 

“Forget it.” Bobby stalked out of the room. 

Alex stood there, shaking her head. She pulled her wings in close then walked into the kitchen. “I’m taking my stuff up,” she called to Bobby, who probably wasn’t even listening. Then she picked up the largest box and carried it upstairs. 

 

 **I** t was two days later. Alex walked into the house, looking around. “Bobby? I’m home.” She shivered, suddenly uneasy. Something felt . . . off.

“Hang on!” Footsteps on the basement stairs reached the angel’s ears, and a few seconds later Bobby appeared. “Hey. How was Charlie?” 

“He’s doing pretty good.” Alex tipped her head. “What were you doing downstairs? I thought you had to work on those cars.” 

“I got distracted.” Bobby brushed past her. “Oh, and, uh, stay out of the basement. No matter what you hear.” With that, he opened the front door and was gone. 

 

 **A** n hour later, Alex was seated at the kitchen table, updating the contacts on her phone. It was nice to have that back. She looked around with a huff. The house was twice as cluttered as it had been since she was last here. It was ridiculous. And to make the mess worse, now there was a large, dirty white PC sitting on the table, taking up most of the space. It looked like it was from the 90’s, which, knowing Bobby, it probably was. It had originally been upstairs, but apparently the old hunter decided to move it downstairs. 

Alex heard Bobby curse. He was still outside, working on those old cars. Hopefully they could sell off the scrap metal soon. They kind of needed the money. With a sigh, she looked up towards the water-damaged ceiling. “Balthazar?” she said quietly. “Hey, it’s Alex. I, uh, sorry. I just need something.”

“Excuse me? Do I _look_ like a maid to you?” 

Alex jumped to her feet with a grin. “Just a little,” she teased, wings spread up and open in a happy greeting. “How are you doing?”

“I’m fine.” Balthazar reached out with his wings, brushing the tips of his wings against the inside of her primaries. Alex had learned that that gesture was similar to a hug; typically the more dominant angel was the one who reached out and brushed the other’s wings. “What do you need?” 

“I was wondering if you still had access to your place?”

“And why would I want to go back there?”

“Cause I have my stuff there?” Alex childishly rocked up onto her tiptoes, hands behind her back. “Please? I need my clothes.” 

“Do you really?” Balthazar stepped closer. 

“Yeah, I kind of do.” The phone rang, but Alex ignored it. “Please? You can go back, right? They won’t kill you?” 

“I’ll see what I can do.” 

The front door opened, and Balthazar disappeared. Bobby stepped through the door. “Get the damn phone,” he grumbled, wiping his hands on on a kitchen rag. “Don’t just stand there like a startled deer.” 

“Sorry.” Alex picked up the phone. “Hello?” 

“What happened, you fall and can’t get up?” Dean’s scathing voice came over the phone. 

“Hilarious,” Alex snapped. “What do you want?” 

“Is Bobby there?” 

“Yeah. He’s right here.” Alex handed the phone to Bobby with a muttered, “Bitch.”

Bobby listened for several seconds, then moved towards the computer. He clicked on the email icon, and Alex watched as an image downloaded. It was a picture of a hand; Alex could tell it was Dean’s by the ring. And in his palm rested a large black claw, at least four inches long. “That’s a new one,” Bobby told Dean. He paused. “Dean, I’m a little busy.” Another few seconds pause, and then, “I’ll call you back.” He hung up the phone. 

“What’s that?” 

“I don’t know. They found it in some guy’s chest. Six victims in the past two days.”

“That’s insane.”

“Yeah. Now they want me to figure out what it is.”

“Oh. That sounds like fun. And that claw’s all you got?” 

“Yeah.” Bobby sat down at the table. “And I still got to get all those tires off of those cars.” He shooed her away. “You go do that. I’ll start research.”

Alex didn’t argue. 

 

 **T** en minutes later, Bobby walked out of the house. “I’m going down to the University,” he called on his way past. “Need a book.”

Alex looked up from where she was unscrewing the last lug nut on an old Prius. “Bobby!” she called as the hunter got into his car. “Wait!” Her voice wasn’t heard, however, and the engine purred to life before pulling away. “It’s not open,” she said after him. “It’s . . . Sunday.” 

 

 **H** alf an hour later, the phone rang. Alex was seated in the kitchen, munching on a bag of chips while surfing the low-quality wifi Bobby had. She looked up, stuffing another potato chip in her mouth. It wasn’t one of the five work phones, so that meant it was one of Bobby’s friends. She reached over and answered it. “Hello.”

“Alex.” 

“Bobby. Hey.” Alex smirked slightly. “Library not open? It’s Sunday.”

“I know that now, you idjit.” There was a clink of metal. “I got what I needed. But the car’s dead. So get your ass down here with some jumper cables, okay?” 

Alex smirked again. “Yes sir,” she nodded with a mock salute. “Be right there. You in the U’s parking lot?” 

“Yeah. Now hurry up.” 

“Yeah.” Alex hung up. She reluctantly closed her computer, grabbed her cell and her Marquis’ keys, and made her way outside. 

 

 **“B** alls!” 

Alex heard Bobby before she even saw him. She let the car roll to a stop beside the old rusted, 1975 Ford F 1-50. The hunter had the hood propped open, and he was fiddling with the mess of tubes inside. Alex killed the engine and threw open the door. “Problem, padre?” 

“Just give me the damn cables.” 

Alex pulled them out of the passenger seat and handed them to Bobby. “I’m getting there. Geez. Pissy mood, much?” She leaned against her car and watched. 

 

 **T** he day came and went, but Alex saw little of the old hunter for most of it. Balthazar didn’t return, and Alex reluctantly retired to her room for the night.

 

 **“I** t’s been a while.” Lucifer sat crosslegged on the bed, watching Alex as she entered the room. “I’ve missed you.”

“Sorry.” Alex sat down at the foot of the bed. When Lucifer held out his arms, she crawled into his lap, eyes closing. “I’ve been busy.”

“You’re starting to lose REM cycle,” the archangel murmured in her hair. 

Alex let him hold her. It was beneficial for both of them. The archangel was always very compliant when like this, and Alex knew this sort of contact was something her inner angel craved, and she loved it. She didn’t love him, per say, but definitely enjoyed these moments. And it made her stronger out in the real world. “Sorry,” she repeated. 

“It’s fine. You’ll soon start to go into a different state of consciousness instead of sleeping, and then I’ll be back every night.” The pleasantly cold ice of his grace pushed against her wings. “That’s why the past few months have been strange.” 

“Okay.” Alex took one of the archangel’s hands in hers, running light fingers over his calloused palm as she studied it. “Cool.” 

“Yes.” Lucifer’s chin rested on her head, and he let out a long breath. “Just a little longer. Then everything will be okay.”

 

 **T** he clock read 5:09. Alex rolled over in her sheets with a groan. Her room was chilly. She threw back the covers and hurried over to her wardrobe before pulling on a pair of jeans and a thick sweatshirt. She heard a voice, and she descended downstairs. 

Bobby was at the study desk, talking on his phone. “ — silver knife blessed by a padre,” Bobby was saying. He let out a loud yawn, and Alex saw two empty coffee mugs by him. She frowned. 

The person Bobby was talking to apparently hung up, because Bobby frowned. “You’re welcome,” he grumbled, hanging up. 

“You should go to bed,” Alex suggested quietly, leaning against the wall. “You’re tired.” 

“Yeah, I am.” Bobby shook his head. “I don’t need to sleep yet.” 

“Hey, I’m still here!” A faint female voice came from downstairs. 

Alex tipped her head. “Bobby . . . who’s in the basement?”

“Demon.” Bobby stood up. “I’ll take care of her.” 

Huh. That explained the weird feeling the house had. Probably her angelness warning her of demonic activity. “Oh. That’s why I had to avoid the basement.” Alex glanced up the stairs. “I’m going to go back to bed then.” She hurried back upstairs before Bobby could argue. 

 

 **A** scream woke her up. Alex jumped to her feet, drawing her gun. Then she sat down on her bed with a groan. “Bobby!” she yelled at the top of her lungs. “Keep it down, dammit! I’m trying to sleep!” 

After a few seconds, she heard, “Sorry to tarnish your beauty sleep, princess!” 

Alex chuckled, falling back on her bed. Her heart still beat wildly with adrenaline, but she let her gun drop onto the nightstand. Another scream ripped through the house, and Alex stomped downstairs, unable to sleep after that. She was halfway down the basement stairs when the front doorbell rang. 

“You gonna get that or not?” she heard a female voice ask scathingly. 

Alex hurried down the rest of the stairs and stopped dead in her tracks. A woman was tied in a chair in the righthand corner. Her skin was burned repulsively, but the air didn’t smell of burnt flesh. But definitely of burnt something. Bobby put a flamethrower on the table, and Alex tipped her head. “What the hell did you do to her?” 

“Nothing. Watch her.” Bobby hurried upstairs. 

Alex leaned against the staircase, watching the demon. She glared right back. “Angel, huh?”

“Yeah. Crowley send you to do his dirty work?” 

“Me? I’m in sales.” The demon’s eyes flickered red. “But then again, whatever Crowley wants he gets. He is the King, after all.”

“King of Hell already, huh?” Alex crossed her arms. “Great.” She heard Bobby talking to someone upstairs. 

Suddenly the demon opened her mouth. “Help!” she screamed. “Help me!” 

Alex swiftly stepped forward, a hand resting over the demon’s head. “One more word and I’ll make you wish you were dead,” she growled. She reached out with her grace, pushing on the demon’s head. The demon screeched and Alex pulled back with a disgusted noise. She felt tainted. “We clear?” 

The demon nodded, clamping her mouth shut. 

“Good.” Alex leaned back against the staircase. She flicked her wings, trying to escape the taint of touching the demon, but she knew only time would let it fade. Ugh. 

Bobby came back down the stairs. “Thanks for shutting her up,” he grumbled, and Alex wasn’t sure if he was being sincere or sarcastic. 

“Who was that?” she opted to ask instead. 

“Marcy. Neighbor a few blocks down. Moved in six months ago.”

“Aww,” the demon cooed sarcastically. “She sounds nice. Are you going to make sweet love to her before you stab her to death, Bobby?” She smirked. “That is your usual thing, right?” 

Bobby picked up the flamethrower and turned towards a metal barrel Alex noticed for the first time. She glanced inside to see a bones, presumably an entire human skeleton. Fire burst into the barrel, and the demon threw her head back with a scream.

Alex bit her lip, unnerved by the sound. She knew that the skeleton had to be the demon’s human remains. How Bobby had found them, she just didn’t know. 

“I want Crowley’s name now!” Bobby snapped. “Crowley’s name!” 

“Bobby!” Alex’s voice had the hunter cutting off the flames. “It’s Fergus something, right?” she asked the demon. 

The demon was breathing heavily. “Yeah, yeah,” she agreed breathlessly. “McLeod. Fergus McLeod. I swear!” Her eyes were wide with pain. “We call him Lucky the Leprechaun behind his back!” 

Bobby opened his mouth, but Alex beat him to the punchline. “Seriously? McLeod’s Scottish, dumbass.” Bobby grunted in agreement. 

“You got what you want, now send me back.” The demon watched with wide eyes as Bobby grabbed the can of lighter fluid off of the table and poured it in the barrel. “We had a deal!” 

“I gave it my best effort.” Bobby torched the bones. 

“No!” The demon screamed as her flesh burned away. Alex turned, trying to forget the gruesome images now burned forever in her mind. The screams died, and Bobby put out the flames. 

“Was that really necessary?” Alex asked quietly. 

“Yeah.” Bobby put the flamethrower on the metal shelf across the room. “Couldn’t send her back. She’d tell Crowley.” 

“I know, but still . . .” Alex glanced at the body. “It’s an awful way to go.” 

“Welcome to the real world.” 

Alex just shook her head. “We killed a person too.”

“Alex.” Bobby turned to look at her. “That girl was dead already. There was nothing we could have done.” 

Alex just turned away. She hurried back upstairs, leaving Bobby to clean up. She made it into her room before, “There you are.” 

Alex turned at Balthazar’s voice. “Morning,” she smiled. It widened when she saw what he was holding. “That was fast!” 

“You have too many things.” Balthazar dropped a duffle bag on the ground. “Took me forever to pack.”

“Well, thanks anyways. No problems with Raphael?” 

“Raphy can try me again if he wants. But to be safe, I’m going to take a little vacation.” 

“Okay.” Alex frowned slightly, then stepped forward, pulling the angel into a hug. “Don’t go too far,” she murmured. 

“I won’t.” 

Alex kissed him lightly on the cheek. Balthazar grinned, and then he was gone. Alex watched his wings disappeared out the door, and she sighed, falling back on her bed. There went her last angel friend that came when she called. “Miss you already, B,” she murmured, turning into her pillow. 

 

 **B** obby made hamburger meat for lunch. Alex sat on the floor, as Bobby had commandeered the table for his McLeod hunt; right now a map of Scotland was apparently more important than Alex and her food. 

The wireless phone rang, and Bobby looked at the number before answering. “Yeah, Garth? What do you want?” He listened for several seconds. “Never heard of a vamp doing that. It doesn’t sound like our kind of thing. I’d drop a dime to the FBI.” Then he hung up, turning his attention back to the map. 

Alex opened her mouth to ask how Garth was, but just then one of the wall-mounted phones rang. 

Bobby answered the one labeled _FBI Tom Willis_. “Willis, FBI.” He listened, and his face grew displeased. “No Garth, not me, the FBI. The _real_ FBI! How are you still alive?” Without waiting for an answer, he hung up. 

Alex chuckled. “Gotta love Garth,” she teased. The phones rang again. 

 

 **B** y the time Alex had finished her lunch, the phones had rung four times. Not counting Garth, there had been Ryan, posing as CDC; the two Winchesters, needing confirmation as FBI; Nathaniel, also with FBI, and finally Annie Hawkins, posing at the police and needing backup on exhuming a grave. 

Bobby hung up the last phone, taking a sip of the coffee he made right after the Winchesters called. He turned back to the map when the wireless phone rang. Bobby rolled his eyes, but answered. He listened for several seconds before abruptly hung up. 

“Busy day, huh?” Alex dropped her plate in the sink. 

“Yeah.” Bobby pulled an old book near, flipping through. There was a pounding on the front door, and Bobby got up to answer it. Alex followed.

Bobby opened the wooden door to see Rufus Turner looking at him through the screen. “Oh good, you’re home!” Rufus said breathlessly. “Listen. You got to help me bury a body.”

Alex couldn’t see Bobby’s face, she she swore she _heard_ him roll his eyes. However, all he said was, “Hang on.” 

“I’ll man the phones.” Alex waved at Rufus before retreating to the kitchen. 

Before Bobby stepped out the doors, he added, “If it’s that lady again, hang up.”

Alex nodded. “Sure.” She glanced at the counter where a large pan of peach cobbler sat, a gift from that new Marcy fellow. Er, fellowess. She sniffed the air, and her eyes drifted closed momentarily at the sweet smell. 

The phone rang, and Alex reluctantly moved to answer it. It was the wireless. “Bobby’s. What’s up?” 

“Bobby? You sound different.” 

“Charlie?” Alex smiled, sitting down in a chair. “Hey, it’s Alex.” 

“Hey. Bobby wouldn’t happen to be around?” 

“He’s outside. Helping Rufus bury something.” Alex shrugged, even though she knew he couldn’t see it. “Why? Something wrong?” 

“No, it’s nothing. I’ll call back later, alright?”

“You sure? I can go get him.” 

“No, no. Don’t sweat it. It’s not important.”

Alex shrugged. “Okay, whatever. Stay safe.” 

“You too.” Charlie hung up, and Alex sat down. She heard the distant hum as Bobby powered up the mechanical digger he had somehow gotten his hands on. Definitely made digging graves easier. She made a move for the cobbler. 

 

 **H** alf an hour later the front door opened and Bobby stepped through. “What did he have?” 

“Okami.”

“Never heard of it.” Alex listened as the hunter disappeared into the bathroom to wash his hands. “Rare?” 

“I’ve never seen one outside of Japan.” 

“Weird.” 

“Yeah. And the thing Dean is hunting is native to Greece. Never been a case in the U.S. before.” 

“Okay. That’s a weird coincidence.” Alex motioned to the cobbler. “Hungry? You could use a break.” 

She expected the hunter to argue, but instead said,“Thanks.” He had just started to cut himself a piece when the phone rang. The hunter dropped the knife, but Alex blocked him. “I’ll get the phone. You eat.” She answered the wireless. “Hello? Singer’s.” 

“Where’s Bobby?” That was Dean.

“Right here. What’s wrong?” Alex put the phone on speaker to Bobby could hear, unsettled by the tone of Dean’s voice. 

“I need another way to kill a Lamia.” 

Bobby slid a piece of the cobbler onto his plate. “What happened to the silver knife blessed by a priest?”

 

Dean hesitated. “That didn’t pan out,” he finally said. “What’s plan B?” There was a thud in the background, and Alex barely heard Sam’s groan of pain. She looked up at Bobby to see he was thinking the same thing. 

Then there was a knock at the door. “Police!” A man yelled. 

“Balls.” Bobby looked behind him, then down at his food with an added mumbled curse. “Where are you?” 

“In a church. In a rectory.” 

“Is there a kitchen?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Find salt and rosemary.” 

“Open up, Singer!” That was Sheriff Mills. 

Alex glanced up at Bobby, who nodded in agreement, picking up the phone and holding it against his ear. She walked over and answered the door. “Can I help you?” she asked innocently. 

“Is Bobby Singer in there?” 

“Yeah. He’s a little busy. Can you wait a few minutes?” Alex looked up at the man standing beside Mills. 

“Agent Adams.” The man flashed his FBI badge. He tried to push his way into the house. Alex decided she didn’t like him. 

“You can’t come in until I invite you,” she protested. “I know the sixth amendment!” 

“Alex, just let us in.” The sheriff blinked, and Alex reluctantly nodded. 

“Come in.” She opened the door and let the two inside. 

Bobby was still on the phone. He glanced at them and motioned that he would be there in a minute. “It’s my mom,” he lied. “Just a sec.” He turned back to the phone. “Great great. Now, blend the herbs, sauté over high heat, and cook well.” 

Alex brushed past the hunter on her way to the peach cobbler, and she smiled when she heard the faint scream of a creature. 

“Okay, great. Enjoy the roast, mom.” Bobby hung up and tossed the phone onto the kitchen table. 

Adams stepped forward. “Agent Adams, FBI.” He flashed his badge again. “I’m sure you know Sheriff Mills.” When Bobby nodded, the agent held up a sketch of a very familiar man. “Have you seen this man? Rufus Turner, aka Luther Vandros, aka Rueben Studdard.” 

“No, I’ve never seen the dick,” Bobby answered, voice slightly pointed. 

“How do you know that he’s a dick?” the agent persisted. 

“Lucky guess.” Bobby turned and made his way into the study. All three followed, and Alex dropped down on the couch, not missing the Sheriff’s eyes roll at Bobby’s words.

“Funny. Cause I got a couple guys working the highway that said they saw him pull in here. Carrying a body.”

“Well that’s ridiculous.” Bobby crossed his arms. “Look, it’s a workday, I gotta . . .”

“I just want a look around.” 

Bobby stepped forward, eyes flashing. “You got a warrant, sonny?”

“Well, do I need one, sir?” the agent challenged back. The two men glared at each other, and Alex stood, prepared for a fight.

However, Sheriff Mills quickly broke it up. She reached up and patted both of them on their shoulders. “Okay, fellas, put the rulers away. Zip up.” She turned to Agent Adam. “ Look. Bobby here is kind of a . . .” She hesitated, looking at Bobby for an apt description. “Crank,” she finally said. “And he ain’t what you’d call a fan of Big Brother, but me and him —” She turned to Bobby, “How long have a been arresting you now? Ten years?” 

“Thereabouts.” 

“Yeah, we got a history, so . . . what do you say just let me scope the place out. That okay? You could just wait outside.” 

Adams stared at Mills, then turned towards the door. “Five minutes.” Then he was gone. 

Alex breathed a sigh of relief. 

“Why did you send him outside?” Bobby snapped. 

“Cause I didn’t think you wanted him in here,” Mills said back. 

“I don’t. I have a body in the basement.” 

“My point.” 

“Yeah, but I’ve also got a body buried in the yard.”

The sheriff’s eyes went wide. “Dammit.” She ran out into the hall, Alex and Bobby at her heels. She threw open the door and went out onto the porch. Then she leaned back into the house. “He’s not there.” 

“Balls!” Bobby pushed his way past Alex and out of the house. Alex followed, thoroughly worried. “This way.” Bobby led the way into the cars, the two females right at his heels. 

“Mr. Singer.” Adam appeared around a stack of cars. “Come with me, please.” 

Alex flared her wings. “I can knock him out,” she suggested, too quietly for the FBI agent to hear. “I kind of know how to use my grace now.” 

“Grace?” Mills repeated, confused. 

Alex ignored her. Bobby shook his head. “Not yet.” He followed Adams, and Alex trailed behind the sheriff, ready to step in if necessary. She wasn’t sure how to scrub a human’s minds, but she was quite willing to try on that man. The corner of her lip was pulled up into a snarl, and she frowned when she realized what she was doing. She shoved her hands deep inside her pockets. 

“Do you mind explaining this?” Agent Adams pointed towards a large hole in the ground. Alex and Bobby approached. She could feel the tension in the hunter, which immediately dispersed when he reached the edge of the hole. Confused, Alex glanced in. 

It was empty.

Bobby let out a huff. “What? You never had a septic tank explode on you? I got it pretty well cleaned up, but watch your step.” 

Agent Adams quickly checked the bottom of his shoes with a disgusted noise. 

“Anything else, Agent?” Bobby asked scathingly. 

Adams looked over at Mills, who crossed her arms. “I think that’s all,” he growled. 

Alex watched him stalk away, and she huffed angrily, letting her wings flare up for a second. “I don’t like him.”

 

 **T** hat evening, Alex retired to the couch, pulling close a book she was almost halfway through. She had her wings pulled in tight, using them as a soft and warm security blanket. There was a large thud as Bobby dropped a large bag onto the study desk. “Get back here!”

Alex looked up in confusion only to see him talking on the phone. “Who are you talking to?” Alex strained her ears to faintly hear the other voice. 

“The okami ain’t dead!” 

“Oh. Rufus.” Alex watched as Bobby dug through his bag, tossing knives everywhere. 

“Did you use the bamboo dagger?” He put the phone on speaker and rested in on the desk to he could use both hands. 

“Yeah,” Rufus snapped. 

“Blessed by a Shinto priest?”

“I’m not an imbecile, Bobby.”

Bobby dropped a wide-bladed knife with a hole in the center, and it clattered to the ground. Alex stooped down to pick it up. The hunter grunted in acknowledgment of her actions. “Did you stab it seven times?” 

Pause. “Five times.” 

“It’s seven times!” Bobby snapped, exasperated.

“No, I’m pretty sure it’s five.” 

“Well, _clearly_ it’s seven.” Not finding what he was looking for, Bobby turned away from the bag. “The damn hole is empty. What was it feeding on when you found it?” 

“Single white females while they slept.” 

Bobby froze. “Balls.” He spun around and hung up the phone before hurrying into the foyer to grab his coat. 

“Bobby?” Alex stood up, concerned. “What’s wrong?”

“I know who this bitch is going after next.” Bobby threw on his jacket, grabbed his shotgun that was leaning beside the door, and hurried outside. 

Alex followed. “Bobby? Bobby!” 

Headlights hit her body, and she jumped out of the way as a car sped by. Alex took off after it. “Bobby!” She ran down the driveway and into the road. After a second’s hesitation, she ran left. “Come on!” She flapped her wings behind her, trying to propel herself even faster. She thrust them down roughly, then let out a cry of pain, falling over. 

“Son of a —” She cut herself off with a hiss of pain, gripping at her left wing. “Ow!” She pulled herself slowly to her feet, wing pinned tightly against her back. Perhaps it still wasn’t completely healed. She broke back into a run, searching for Bobby’s car. “Bobby!” 

There. Alex slid to a stop as she passed a driveway. In it sat Bobby’s rusted old truck. She hurried over to it, peering in through the window. Empty. She reached for her back — her angel blade. Dammit. She had left it laying on her bed. She threw open the door and crawled into the backseat and grabbed a machete. She knew Bobby’s shotgun was going to do squat against this okami thing, and figured hacking it to pieces would at _least_ slow it down. 

There was a shatter of glass, and Alex jumped, almost hitting her head on the metal roof. She clambered out of the car just in time to see a pale woman jump out of the darkened window. The next thing she noticed was that Bobby Singer was pulling himself to his feet. The okami lunged at the hunter, but Bobby twisted away at the last second, and the creature careened into the large oak. Alex rushed forward as Bobby tried to pin it against the tree. “Bobby!” 

That moment of distraction was what the okami needed. It punched Bobby in the jaw, sending the hunter flying backwards before following, teeth bared. Bobby’s back hit the large metal wood chipper that sat in the middle of the yard, and suddenly the air was filled with a grinding sound. 

The okami wrestled Bobby to the ground with a snarl. Alex rushed forward, wielding the machete. She swung sideways, catching the creature in the side of the neck. 

The okami screeched, rearing up as Alex wrenched her blade free. Bobby managed to roll out from the okami and shoved it into the wood chipper, leaving Alex to reel backwards. The grinding was muted by the sound of shredded flesh and bones, followed by a scream. 

Alex peered around the wood chipper to see a woman standing there. She was covered in okami puree. Alex grimaced at the sight.

Bobby staggered to his feet. “I, uh, . . . I thought your chipper was broke,” he said lamely as he turned it off.

“I just said that to get you to come over here,” the woman said breathlessly, every muscle tense in shock and disgust.

Bobby blinked in realization. “Oh. Well, I guess I could come over for dinner some night.” He let out a half smile. “Could be fun.”

“I don’t think so.” 

Bobby glanced down at Alex, face stolid. “Story of my life.”

Alex nodded in agreement. “Maybe we should go,” she suggested quietly, taking a step back towards the truck. 

“Yeah. We’ll, uh, see you around. Maybe.” Bobby followed her into the truck. 

They pulled out into the street. “Well, that went well.” Alex slumped against the seat.

“Shut up.” 

 

 **A** lex woke up late the next morning. She heard voices downstairs, and with a glance at the clock — it was past 11 am — she stumbled into the bathroom. It was two days later since the little wood chipper incident, and Bobby had spent those days pacing, obviously waiting for something. What it was, Alex had no idea. She washed her face then jumped down the stairs before stopping in her tracks. “Uh, morning, Sheriff.” 

“Hey Alex.” Sheriff Mills had her hand on the doorknob, and seemed to be in the process of leaving. 

“W . . . what brings you around?” Alex glanced into the kitchen to see Rufus standing there with Bobby. “Is everything okay?” 

“Yeah, everything’s fine. I’m probably going to lose my job, but you know.” 

“Oh.” Alex blinked in confusion. “I’m sorry. We have cobbler in the fridge if you, I don’t know, drowned your sorrows in food,” she added with a small grin. 

“No thanks.” Sheriff Mills smiled down at her. “I’m okay.” She opened the door. “Take care, Alex.” 

“Yeah, you too.” Alex closed the door behind her before turning into the kitchen. Bobby was standing over the stove, watching a pot of water. “Whatcha doing?” 

“Sanitizing this damn ring.” Bobby glared at Rufus. “This idjit decided it was a good idea to swallow it before he got arrested.”

“What was I suppose to do?” Rufus shot back. “The cops were after me.” 

“Gross.” Alex wrinkled her nose. She glanced through the study. “You got the dead chick out of the basement, right?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Good. I’ll be down there.” Alex hurried away. 

 

 **T** hree days passed. Late one afternoon, Alex was sitting on the basement stairs, deep in thought. A foot to the hip snapped her out of it. “What?” 

“Gonna summon Crowley. You in?” 

“Yeah, yeah. Sure.” Alex didn’t stir, but followed Bobby’s every movements with unblinking eyes. When the flames hit the wooden bowl, Alex felt the air stir, and turned her head to see the King of Hell standing there, looking very much annoyed. He was holding a glass and a bottle of alcohol.

“Well you looked like hammered crap,” Bobby began.

“And you’re a vision as always,” the demon countered. He looked up, and Alex followed his gaze to see the red devils trap on the ceiling. Bobby usually left the circuit open, but had closed it during his preparations for the summoning. “Don’t we both know how this game ends?” he sighed. “Really, Bobby, you got to know when to fold ‘em.”

“Word on the street is that ever since Lucifer went pokey, you’re the big kahuna downstairs.” 

“I see you’ve been reading the trades.”

Alex stood up. “Yeah. King of Hell. You know, ever since I got here, I thought I’d try to stay on your good side, you know? Figured it’d be good to be besties with the King of Hell.” She let out a short huff of laughter. “Look where that got me.” 

Crowley raised an eyebrow. “Sorry to disappoint, darling.” He turned around and pulled a glass out of his pocket, then a flask, and poured himself a drink.

“Trouble in paradise?” Bobby guessed.

“Mate, you have no idea. I thought . . . when I got to the corner’s office . . .” The demon dropped some antacids into his drink, “I thought it was going to be all rainbows and two-headed puppies.” He glanced up at Bobby. “But if I’m being honest, it’s been hell.” He downed the drink. 

“I thought that was the point.” 

Crowley put his glass down on the table. “You know what the problem with demons is?” 

“They’re low-life demons?” Alex suggested. 

“Exactly. Evil, lying prats. The whole lot of them. And stupid. Try to get a new way, a better way. And what do you get? Bugger all. You know, there’s days when I think Lucifer’s whole ‘Spike everything with black eyes’ plan wasn’t half bad. Hmm.” He let out a breath. “Feels good to get that off my chest. We should make this a thing.”

“Do I look like Dr. Phil to you?” Bobby snapped. 

“A little,” Crowley shot back lightly. Before Bobby could respond he said, “Anywho. Obviously not here for a social call. So on with it.” 

“I want —”

The demon cut him off with a grunt. He held up his hand. “Save the recap. In fact, I’ll do the shorthand for you.” He pointed at Bobby. “I want my soul back, idjit,” he said in his best Bobby impression. He turned his finger towards himself. “Fraid not.” He pointed back at Bobby, changing back his voice. “But I’m surely and have a beard. Gimme! Blah blah blah.” His voice morphed back to his own. “Homespun cornpone insult, witty retort from yours truly.” Alex chuckled at his description of Bobby, and the demon glanced over at her. “The bottom line is, you get bubkes. Are we done?” 

“Just getting started.” Bobby glanced to his right. The air grew cold, and Alex instinctively wrapped her wings around her for warmth. A ghost appeared, a young boy. Alex let out a growl. Crowley looked just as startled. He looked between the boy and Bobby, then back at the boy, vessel frozen with shock.

“Gavin?” Disbelief crowded his voice. “Is that really you? It’s been so long.” His voice cracked. “I love you so —” Suddenly the demon laughed, unable to hold it back any longer. “Sorry.” All sympathy in his voice was completely gone. “Your soul for my boy, is that right? I’ve got to give you credit for thinking outside the box on that one but, the problem is . . .” He chuckled. “I loathe the little bastard. You want to torture him, let me pull up a chair and watch.” 

Alex frowned at his words, not sure exactly what Bobby’s plan was suppose to be, and if this was going according to plan. 

Crowley continued. “Hell, burn his bones and send him down to me and we can have a family reunion. That right, son?” He turned back to Bobby. “You picked the wrong bargaining chip this time, my friend.”

“He ain’t a chip,” the hunter countered. When Crowley looked confused, he added, “I was just using him to dig up dirt on you. And since Gavin hates you maybe even more than you hate him, he was more than happy to squawk.” 

Crowley’s eyes flashed, and for a second Alex could see his true form, dark and twisted, far from human. Then it was gone. “What did you tell him, son?” 

The ghost smiled wickedly. “Everything.” The ghost flickered and disappeared.

 

Bobby moved towards the demon. “I know it all now. Fergus. You may be the king of the dirt bags, but here, in life, you were nothing more than a two-bit tailor who sold his soul for three inches below the belt.” 

“Just trying to hit double digits,” the demon quipped dryly. He smiled at the hunter. “So, you got a glimpse behind the curtain. And?” 

“And now I know where you’re planted.” Bobby picked up his cellphone and tossed it to Crowley. 

He put the receiver to his ear. “Dean. It’s been a long time. We should get together.” 

“Wait wait wait.” Alex sprung to her feet. “Dean?” She looked over at Bobby. “They’re at his grave? They’re in Scotland?! No fair!” 

“Alex.” 

“What? You didn’t think I might want to go to fucking _Scotland_?!” Alex stormed up the stairs, slightly pissed. She hadn’t even been _told_ they were going to Scotland. She hurried outside. “Balthazar? Cas? Gabriel? Come on, someone. I want to go to Scotland. _Please_?”

“You. Are. Ridiculous.” 

“You’re ridiculous for coming,” Alex teased back. She took a deep breath, feeling stupid for reacting like she had. “Sorry. I just . . . the Winchesters are in Scotland, and I’ve always wanted to go, and weren’t you suppose to be far away?” she added breathlessly. 

Balthazar shrugged. “You were put in my care. Mate or not, I take it as my responsibility to give you what you need.” 

“I mean, I don’t really need it.” Alex scuffled her feet embarrassedly. “I kind of just overreacted. Sorry. I don’t know why.”

Balthazar stepped closer, wrapping his wings around her, drawing her nearer. “Are you nearing your heat?” he guessed, brushing hair gently out of her face. “You do seem a bit hormonal.”

“I hope not.” Alex made a face. “That wasn’t fun. I . . .” She trailed off in confusion. “I thought angels went into heat once a year.” 

“They do. But you’re still young. Your heats haven’t set, so they’ll be irregular more set apart.” 

“But it’s October. I . . . I was — four months? It’s four months off?”

“Sure.” The angel shrugged. “I don’t see why not.” Alex felt Balthazar’s primaries drag down her back, brushing against the back of her wings. “I’m sorry. I don’t know anything that can help you avoid those.”

“It’s fine.” Alex leaned into the angel’s touch, eyes closing. “I’ll be fine. I handled it before, I can do it again.”

Balthazar stepped back. “Am I needed any longer?” he asked quietly.

“No. Sorry. Go back to wherever you have to.” 

The angel dipped his head. “Until next time.” 

“Indeed.” Alex watched him fly away. She leaned back against the car with a sigh. Another heat. She wasn’t sure how often they happened. Every year, by the sound of it. She walked back into the house and lay down on the couch, closing her eyes.

 

 **“Y** ou’re back.”

Alex opened her eyes. She was in her dream house. She hadn’t expected to fall asleep so fast. “Weird,” she murmured. 

Lucifer was perched on the far end of the couch, watching her. “You smell good.”

Alex sat up. “You always have to say the weirdest things.” 

Lucifer slithered onto the cushions, crawling closer until he was kneeling over her. “You’re about three weeks from heat,” he informed her. 

“And you know this . . . how?” 

“Look where we are.” Lucifer motioned to the house, then turned a hand to her, wiggling a single finger like a worm. “I’m inside your head, Alex. I can read you.”

“Alright. Cool.” Alex reached up and tugged at a loosening feather. “I hate heats.”

“I can block them.”

_What?_

“You don’t want your heats, and I can block them.” Lucifer placed a gentle hand over her heart. “A little-known secret, really only known by a few archangels. Granted, your body will still go through heat, but it will be only a suppressed version of what you should have.” He sat up, pulling Alex up as well. “Trust me, _li mohaoth_. Considering the heat you had _last_ time, this will be a thousand times better.” 

“That would have been nice to know last year.”

The archangel let out an indifferent grunt. “I didn’t know my way around you yet.” 

Alex chose to ignore that, and instead she curled her wings towards the archangel in a quiet plea. “So you can stop the heats? Really?”

“More or less. However, I’ll have to leave some of my grace in you. It’s really only meant for mated couples. Then again,” the archangel added, “I don’t think any angel’s heard of an unmated female going through heat alone.” Before Alex could answer, he pulled her into his lap. “Close your eyes and don’t fight it.” 

A hand came to rest on the skin of her lower abdomen. He spread his fingers, two sliding slightly beneath the waistband of her jeans to accommodate his large hand. Alex felt his grace push into hers, and, unsure what to do, she reached out with her own grace. Lucifer’s head dropped forward, resting against the back of her neck. “Stay still,” he mumbled, wings folding down and around her. 

Alex immediately drew her grace back. She closed her eyes, trying to figure out what he was doing. She could feel his grace pushing further in, prodding against her . . . ovaries? That had to be it. She shifted uncomfortably. 

The archangel actually _nipped_ her, and the girl let out a squeak. “Don’t move,” he growled.

“It feels weird,” Alex whined, but obediently stilled. 

“I’m almost done.” His grace did some elaborate twists and dips; Alex didn’t actually know what he was accomplishing, but then he pulled back. “There. That will stay in place until you actually take a mate.”

His wings flared backwards, letting the female get up if she desired. 

However, she didn’t. Alex rested her head back against his shoulder. “That felt . . . uncomfortable.”

“I apologize.” Lucifer tipped his head, ear brushing against her hair. “It would have been less uncomfortable if I had already been inside you.” 

Alex shifted uncomfortably, using her wings to stand up. “Fucking angels, I swear,” she muttered under her breath. “I’ll never get them.” 

“I apologize.” Lucifer stood up, a hint of playfulness in his eyes. “Was that too forward for you?” 

“What?” Alex turned around. “Yes, no — I don’t know. I, I just . . . it’s not something angels would normally say, you know?” She really needed to stop being so surprised when he said something like that. Seriously. It was getting old. 

Lucifer just chuckled. Then he looked towards the door. “I’ll let you wake up. Bobby is calling.” Everything faded. 

 

 **“A** lex?” Bobby was shaking her awake. Alex rolled over with a groan, batting his hand away. “Alex, come on. Get up, princess.”

“Leave me alone,” the girl whined. 

“Are you still pouting about that Scotland thing?” 

At that, Alex rolled over. “No.” She sat up with a yawn. “Sorry. Kind of overreacted. B . . . B said it was cause I was nearing my heat.” 

“Heat.” Bobby dropped his hand. “You better not be. We’re gonna need you at full speed.” 

“I’ll be fine.” Alex swung her legs over the couch and stood. “Lucifer did something. It’ll keep the heats minimal until —” She cut herself off when she saw the hunter’s face. “Oh. It’s, uh, it’s complicated. Some angel crap.” 

“You’ve got the devil in your noggin?” 

“Yeah . . . it’s nothing. I’ve got it under control, okay? He’s not too bad.” 

Bobby just shook his head. “Jared wants you down at the slaughterhouse. They’ve got a handful of cows coming in, and Walt’s out of town. Heard you were back in town and were wondering if you could help.” 

“Yeah, yeah. Sure.” Alex moved towards the stairs. “Tell ‘em I’ll be right over.” 

 

 **T** wo weeks passed. Bobby had somehow managed to get back his soul — apparently Sam and Dean were successful in finding Crowley’s remains, and were able to negotiate some sort of a deal that not only got the old hunter his soul back, but let him keep his legs. 

Alex skipped into the kitchen, bored and hungry. Bobby was sitting at the table on the phone. “Yeah,” he was saying. “I’ll hit the books hard. Just don’t shoot him yet, alright? Watch him. We need facts. ‘Cause if it ain’t Sam . . . we don’t know what it is.” 

At those words, Alex immediately turned around. Nope. She wanted no part in that. 

However, Bobby saw her. “Hang on.” He stood up. “Alex. You know anything about this?” 

Alex kept walking. 

“Yeah. Looks like it.” Bobby followed. “Alex. Spill. What’s wrong with Sam?” Bobby trapped her in the study, dropping the phone onto the desk. 

Dean’s voice came through. “Alex? What do you know?” 

“It’s nothing,” Alex insisted weakly. “There’s nothing we can do about it, and if I do tell you, I’m afraid that Sam will kill me.” 

Dean was silent, but Bobby frowned. “He won’t kill you,” he insisted.

“Oh please,” Alex scoffed. “He’d sell Dean for twenty bucks. Sam already doesn’t like me; now there’s no conscience holding him back.” 

Dean let out some muffled words. “I have to go,” he told them. “I’ll call later.” Then he hung up. 

Bobby turned to Alex. “Well, you mind explaining?” 

Alex hesitated. “Sam doesn’t have his soul,” she finally mumbled. “It’s still in the cage with Lucifer.” She felt the air change as Bobby stiffened, and she studied her shoes with a whispered “Sorry.” 

Bobby sighed. “Great.” He reached for the phone and left the room. Alex disappeared to sulk in her room.

 

 **H** er phone rang the next night. Alex answered with a glance at the clock. 9:43. “Hello.”

“Alex.” 

Alex winced. “Hey, Dean.”

“So I was talking with Bobby.”  
 “Oh.” Alex pulled her legs in tight, leaning against the wall. “How is he?” 

“Cut the crap, Pip.” Dean’s voice grew short. “Sam doesn’t have his soul. What the hell does that mean?”

“It means his soul isn’t in his body. It’s still in the cage with Lucifer. Only Death can get it out.” Alex clamped her mouth shut at her words. She hadn’t meant to tell him that. 

“Death?” 

“The horseman. Yeah.” 

“And when were you planning on telling us?” 

“I don’t know. Maybe never. As soon as I knew it was safe.” Alex bit her lip to stop from talking. “Dammit! The hell did you do to me?”

“Truth spell. Working a case. Spark a memory?” 

“Yeah, kind of. Of course, I wasn’t going to tell you about Sam, cause I’m pissed you left me at Bobby’s. You know, I use to have a crush on you, before Cas —” Alex roughly cut herself off with a growled out, “Fuck.” 

Dean was silent for a few seconds. “But Sam’s going to be okay?” 

Alex closed her eyes, choosing her next words very carefully. “He’s going to live. He’s going to be okay,” she finally got out. And it was the truth. 

“Thanks.” Dean hesitated like he was going to say something else. He changed his mind. “Yeah. Thanks.” He hung up, and Alex fell back against her bed. 

There was a flutter of wings. Alex looked up to see Balthazar standing there, looking down at her. “Fancy taking a little trip?”

Alex sat up, head tipped in confusion. “Excuse me?”

“A trip. Just for a little while. Not long.”

“Uh . . . why?”

“Because I’m sure you still feel bad about those Winchesters leaving you here, and since your mate’s pretty much been ignoring you, I felt like I should step in.”

“I really don’t need to go to Scotland if that’s what this —”

“We’re not going to Scotland.” Balthazar surged forward, grabbing her hand, and pulling her up through the roof and into the sky. 

 

 **T** hey landed, and Alex looked around. “Whoa.” They were standing on a slightly slanted roof, looking out over a city that absolutely glowed in the night sky. 

Balthazar sat down near the edge, crossing his legs. “Delhi, India.” He pulled his wings in close. “Beautiful at night.” 

Alex nodded, looking up into the dark sky. There were stars, but faint against the bright city lights. She shifted her weight, and slipped, sliding downwards. She fell backwards, stopping her slide. Now near the edge, she peered down, then scrambled back upwards with a small cry. She slipped again, sliding downwards towards the perilous drop. She threw herself into Balthazar’s arms, clinging to his wings to keep her grounded. 

The angel’s voice held poorly-disguised humor. “Something the matter?” 

“I didn’t realize we were so high up,” Alex insisted. “I hate heights.” 

“We’re not that high.” Balthazar promised, amused at how the female angel clung to him. He shifted slightly closer to the edge so that, if she tried, she could stretch her legs back and out over the side of the building.

Alex felt him move, and pushed herself closer. “It’s like a million miles up.”

“Seven hundred meters. Twenty three hundred feet,” the angel corrected. “Not very high at all when you have wings.” He tugged on hers in emphasis. 

“I can’t fly,” Alex snapped, head in Balthazar’s shoulder. “It’s broken, remember?” 

“It’s healed.” 

“But not strong.” 

“No, not strong. But mine are strong enough for the both of us.” 

The angel shifted again, and Alex tightened her grip. “If you’re thinking of jumping,” she growled, “I will _kill_ you.”

“Well, then you better wait until we’re on the ground. You wouldn’t want me dead in mid-flight.” However, Balthazar didn’t move. He put one hand on her back in the offering of comfort. “I won’t move, _micaelaz_ ,” he promised. 

Alex snorted at his word choice. _Micaelaz. Brave one._ “Just rub it in, why don’t you,” she muttered. She closed her eyes, focusing on the warm solid body against hers instead of the deadly precipice mere inches from her feet. As her breathing slowed, her confidence grew. However, she opted just to curl up in the angel’s lap, letting him hold her. There was nothing wrong with that, right?

One hand slid down to her hip, rubbing gentle circles.

Alex didn’t pull away, but a warning rumbled in her throat. “I can feel that.”

“Good for you.”


	4. Family Matters

**September 12th, 2011**

**“A** lex.”

Alex jumped from where she was standing behind the sink, brushing her teeth. She pulled her wings in close with a startled cry. Then she slammed her toothbrush down on the sink when she realized who it was. “Dammit, Cas! Knock!” It was the next evening, and she was _attempting_ to get ready for bed, but apparently Castiel had other plans.

The angel stood behind her, and blue eyes locked with grey through the mirror, but he said nothing.

Alex turned around, frustration sparkling in her eyes. “Really? _Nothing_? I haven’t seen you in, in _forever_ , and you —”

“Come with me.” Castiel took her hand, and then they were flying. The world blurred by, and within the second they were standing in a darkened hotel room. Sam was in front of them, tied to a chair. He was grunting in pain, and upon closer examination, Alex could see why. His face was covered in blood, and he was still bleeding from his nose and a few cuts on his cheek.

“Sam?” Alex hurried closer, worried from his safety. Soulless or not, he was still her friend.

“Alex. Stay back.” Castiel grabbed her arm and pulled her back.

“Let go.” Alex brushed the angel away a little less than roughly, still pissed at him for not answering any of her prayers. “Who the hell did this?” She turned on Dean. “You did this?” It had to be him. The cuts on his face were the right size to have been done by the ring on the hunter’s finger.

Dean grunted in affirmation, staring at his brother.

“Has he been feverish?” Castiel asked. He stepped in front of Alex, bending over slightly to examine the sitting man. He reached out, pulling up an eyelid to check his eyes.

“Have you?” Dean asked his brother sharply.

“No. Why?”

“Is he speaking in tongues?” Cas persisted. He turned to Sam. “Are you speaking in tongues?”

“No. What are you . . .” Sam stared up at the angel. “Are you diagnosing me?”

Dean moved closer, eyes flashing. “He asks, you answer, then you shut your hole. You got that?”

Sam held his brother’s gaze, but didn’t say anything.

Castiel continued. “How much have you been sleeping?”

“I don’t.”

“At all?” Dean sounded surprised.

“Not since I got back.”

“We already know what’s wrong,” Alex told the angel. “He’s soulless.” She looked over at Dean. “You told him, right?”

“Of course I told him.”

Castiel looked from between Dean and Alex. “I was told,” he ensured them. “But I thought it best to make sure.” He turned back to Sam. “Sam. What are you feeling now?”

Sam let out a dry laugh. “Like my nose is broken.”

“No, that’s a physical sensation.” The angel’s wings flicked in annoyance. “How do you feel?”

“Well, I think—”

“ _Feel_.”

“I, I don’t know.”

Castiel’s gaze dropped. Then he undid his belt, pulling it out of his belt loops.

“Cas?” Alex watched him in confusion.

“What?” Sam shared her confusion. “Uh . . .”

Castiel folded the belt. “This will be unpleasant.”

“What?”

“Bit down on this.” The angel pushed the belt into the hunter’s mouth. Sam watched in complete confusion. “If there’s someplace you find soothing, I suggest you go there. In your mind.”

The angel suddenly shoved his hand into Sam’s stomach, wings sparking with grace. Sam let out a muffled cry from under the belt, eyes wide with pain and shock. His chest and throat glowed red from the angel’s grace inside. The hunter strained against his bonds, trying to get free.

Alex looked away, wings curling around her face to hide the sight. There was a slight ringing in her ears as his grace collided with the human, twisting and pushing its way around.

Castiel pulled back and walked over to Alex and Dean. “Alex is right. His soul is gone.”

“So where is it?” Dean looked over at Alex. “Is it really still in the Cage?”

“With Michael and Lucifer,” Castiel confirmed. “That’s my guess.”

“So, is he still even Sam?”

Castiel turned his head to look at the soulless hunter. “Well, you pose an interesting philosophical question.”

“Well, then, just get it back.”

“Dean —”

“Well you pulled me out,” Dean defended.

Castiel’s wings flared in agitation, but his voice remained calm. “It took several angels to rescue you, and you weren’t nearly as well guarded. Sam’s soul is in _Lucifer’s cage_. There’s a difference; a big difference. It’s not possible.”

“Okay, well, there’s got to be a way.” Dean looked down at Alex. “You said Death could do it.”

“Death?” Castiel looked down at her.

Alex shrugged. “Yeah. Pretty sure. I don’t know how, and I don’t know when, and I’m pretty sure forcing Death to do anything is a shitty idea, but yeah. Pretty sure Death can do it.”

“So are you gonna untie me?” Sam finally asked, having recovered from Castiel’s soul searching.

“No.” Dean didn’t even look at his brother.

“Listen, I’m not gonna —”

“Sam, how the hell am I even suppose to let you out of the room?” Dean approached, shoulders squared.

“Dean, I’m not some psycho. I didn’t want you to get hurt. I just wanted to stop the vamps.”

“What?” Alex looked at Castiel, then over at Dean. “What happened?”

She was ignored by the Winchester, who was still glaring down at his brother.

Sam sighed, head falling back slightly. “I’m sorry,” he apologized, voice sounding sincerely sympathetic. “It won’t ever happen again. Please let me go.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“Well what are you going to do?” Sam challenged. “Just keep me locked up here forever?”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“Okay, fine, look. I get it.” Sam shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “I get it, Dean. I was wrong. But I’m telling you, I-I’m trying to get this right. It’s still me.”

“Is it?”

“Yeah, so just let me go.”

“No way in hell.”

Sam let out a sigh, then stood up. The rope that bound his arms fell to the ground. “I didn’t want it to come to this. You’re not going to hold me, Dean. Not here, not in a panic room, not anywhere. You’re stuck with the soulless guy, so you may as well work with me. Let’s fix this.”

Dean blinked, searching his brother’s face for any sign of deceit. “I’m going to be watching every move you make,” he warned.

“Fine. Sounds about right to me.”

Dean turned around and stalked towards the door. “Cas, clean him up.”

Castiel wordlessly stepped forward. He reached up, placing two fingers on Sam’s head. The hunter grunted in pain, lowering his head, but when he looked back up, Alex could see the rest of the cuts fade away, the blood gone.

“Alright, so we need to figure out a way to get back your soul.” Dean stopped by a bed, turning back around. “So, apart from Death, who has that kind of muscle?”

“Probably whatever pulled him up in the first place,” Alex suggested.

“Any names?” Dean persisted.

“I don’t know,” Castiel admitted quietly. Sam shook his head as well.

Dean looked slightly defeated. “No clues? None?”

Sam suddenly looked up, an idea sparking in his eyes. “I’ve got one.” He grabbed his jacket off of the table. “And Samuel might be able to help.”

Dean nodded. “Michigan it is.”

Castiel watched them leave. “I’ll meet you there,” he promised. Dean waved in acknowledgement, and the second the door closed, Castiel turned to Alex. “How have you been?”

Ale shrugged, studying the ground. “I’ve been fine,” she shrugged. “How about you? Is everything okay? You haven’t really been around for the past, you know, _year_.”

“I really am sorry.” Castiel reached out and took one of her hands. “I wish things were different, but I promise I’m doing what is best.”

Alex shook her head with a sigh. “I miss you. Balthazar barely visits, and Lucifer’s getting more forward.”

She felt Castiel tense, and his wings stiffened. “I should block him out,” he growled.

“He’s . . . he’s not all bad,” Alex slowly admitted. “He, he may have found a way to block my heat.”

At those words, Castiel’s grace pushed against hers, feeling everywhere. “You’re only a week away,” he murmured. “I can’t risk taking the time to help you.”

“I’ll be fine,” Alex promised. “He did something. I don’t really know what. But it involved his grace.” She felt Castiel’s grace search her again, and she could immediately feel the difference when he found it. “Y-You’re not mad, right? He said it would only last until I had a mate —”

“I’m not upset,” Castiel promised. “Not at you. He was right. You’re better off minimizing your heats.” He sat down on the bed, and Alex joined him.

Alex smiled. She leaned against his shoulder, closing her eyes. “I wish you’d stop by more often. Balthazar’s the only real company I’ve got.”

“You have Bobby and the Winchesters.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Alex sighed. “But it’s not the same, you know? Balthazar was there when I needed him for those eleven months. He helped me with a lot.”

Castiel frowned at what her words implied. “I’m not giving you up,” he insisted. “He can’t have you.”

“What? No, no.” Alex firmly shook her head. “I don’t want him as a mate. We’re just friends. Good friends. Really good friends.” She lay down, head resting in her angel’s lap. She reached up, mindlessly playing with his tie. “How long we gonna stay here?”

“Until the Winchesters call for us.” A hand found its way into her hair, and navy wings furled down, hiding her from prying eyes. “So a few hours.”

“Mm. Sounds good.” Alex closed her eyes, content to just to spend time with him. Maybe it was her inner angel, but nothing felt better than being around another angel. Just being held, knowing she was loved.

Castiel stroked her hair, murmuring Enochian under his breath. Alex caught the word _enay_ — angel — and _turs_ — beautiful. She also distinctly heard the phrase, “ _Ol aisaro_.”

 _Ol aisaro. I promise._ Alex let out a smile, finding herself enjoying listening to Enochian. Especially in Castiel’s voice. “It’s a beautiful language,” she finally said. “I like it.”

“It is,” Castiel rumbled. Alex looked up to see the angel’s eyes were half-closed in contentment. “The most beautiful of all the languages our Father created.”

“How do you say ‘I love you?’ ”

“ _Ol aziazor elasa._ ”

“ _Ol azizer elasa._ ”

“ _Aziazor_.” Castiel brushed light fingers across his cheek.

“ _Aziazor_ ,” Alex repeated slowly. “ _Ol aziazor elasa._ ”

“ _Od ol ada elasa._ ” The angel dipped his head, kissing her lightly. “And I to you.” He let out a quiet breath, nose brushing hers. “My beautiful angel.”

“ _Le enay turs_ ,” Alex translated quietly.

“ _Noi_ ,” Castiel ascertained, kissing her temple. “ _Le enay turs._ ”

 

 **T** hey stayed like that for several hours until Castiel shifted. “They’ve reached Michigan. It’s time for us to go.”

Alex blinked, confused for a second as to who ‘they’ were. She had been so focused, so enveloped in Castiel, that she had forgotten all about the Winchesters. She let out a small whine of protest as Cas stood up. “I don’t want to go,” she admitted quietly.

“I know.” Castiel straightened his trench coat before holding out his hand. Alex took it, threading her fingers through his, watching as Castiel flared his large wings. Then he thrust them down, and they were flying. Time slowed, and the night sky blurred by until they reached the corner of a dark room only a second after they had left.

 

**Lansing, MI**

**S** am and Dean stood to the left of Alex, and to the right stood another man. Bald, dark eyes, a deep set frown beneath a heavy nose. “This Castiel?” he asked, eyes skirting over Alex before resting on the seraphim beside her. When Castiel nodded curtly, he added, “You’re scrawnier than I imagined.”

Castiel’s wings flared up in indignation. However, like always, his voice remained steady, giving the appearance of calmness to the humans. “This is a vessel,” he informed them. “My true form is approximately the size of your Chrysler Building.”

At those words, Alex couldn’t help the strange feeling at the thought that her mate was actually a thousand times bigger than he looked. Then she imagined Castiel in his vessel as the size of the Chrysler Building, awkwardly towering over the city, and she held back a small laugh.

“Alright, alright, quit bragging,” Dean was saying. He looked at the bald man, who Alex now suspected to be Samuel. “So you were dead, and . . .”

“And, pow, I was on Elton Ridge. Don’t know how. Don’t know why. I got nothing to hide, guys.”

“So we’re thinking the same thing that pulled Sam up pulled this guy down?” Alex guessed.

“Who is she, anyways?” Samuel asked Sam and Dean.

“That’s Alex. She Castiel’s . . . friend.”

“Mate,” Castiel corrected. “At least, she will be.”

Samuel didn’t look like he completely understood. “Right,” he said slowly. He turned back to the Winchesters. “Sorry that you wasted a trip, boys.”

“You don’t mind then if Cas here double checks, right?”

Castiel stepped forward, rolling up his sleeve. He placed one hand on Samuel’s shoulder, then pushed the other into the old hunter.

Samuel let out a loud cry that rang through the room. Only a second later, Castiel pulled out, stepping away and rolling down his sleeve. Samuel leaned his head against the wall, holding his stomach with a groan.

The door flung open and a man ran through, shotgun poised.

“Whoa whoa whoa.” Sam reached out to stop him. “It’s okay, it’s okay. It’s okay.” He let the man go as he calmed down.

“What the hell?” the man snapped, but dropped his gun to his side.

“Angel cavity search,” Dean explained.

Alex watched as Samuel groaned again. “I’m fine, Christian,” Samuel groaned. “Just give us a minute.”

Christian protested. “But —”

“Just give us a minute.”

The man nodded, the left the room.

“What the hell was that about?” Samuel snapped.

“His soul is intact.” Castiel stepped up to Alex’s side, facing the window, eyes raised to the sky.

“What?” Samuel snapped. “Of course I have a — What’s going on, Sam?”

“Whatever dragged me out . . . it left a piece behind.” When Samuel let out a groan, Sam added, “Did you know?”

“No, but . . .” Samuel hesitated, looking for words. After several seconds, he let out a resigned sigh. “I knew it was something. I . . . you’re a hell of a hunter, Sam, but . . . the truth is, you sometimes scare me.” He looked at Dean. “So, what’s the deal here? How do we fix this? How do we get his soul back?”

“We don’t know, but we have to.” Dean glanced over at Alex, who held her tongue. She had absolutely no intention of saying anything.

“Well, I’m here to help, of course. What lead you working?”

“We’re trying to find what pulled me up. You’re the only lead we’ve got,” Sam said honestly.

“Well, then, we’ll just have to dig.”

“Sam, Dean.” Castiel finally spoke up. “I have to get back.”

“You’re leaving?” Dean sounded completely surprised.

“I’m in the middle of a civil war.” Castiel turned his gaze from the sky to Alex.

“You better tear the attic up, find something to help Sam.”

Castiel nodded, wing flicking at Dean in acknowledgment. Alex wondered if he even realized that the gesture remained unseen. “Of course. Your problems always come first. I’ll be in touch.” His wings stretched out, touching Alex’s wingtips. “ _Ol chi oaona zoom genma._ ” he murmured. Then he was gone.

 _I shall notice your absence_. Two translations sparked in her mind at the exact same time, and Alex sighed. _I will miss you._

“Would’ve asked him to stay around for a beer,” Samuel joked dryly. He grabbed something off of the shelf behind him ad put it on the desk, and Alex resisted pointing out that he didn’t drink.

“So, what’s with the book club outside?” Dean asked.

“Putting together a hunt.”

“That’s a lot of guys for a hunt.”

Something sparked in Sam’s eyes. “You found him, didn’t you?”

“Who?”

“He’s got a lead on the alpha vamp.”

“Do you?”

 _Alpha?_ Alex furrowed her brow. Sounded familiar. The first of its kind, big and powerful. That sounded right.

Samuel nodded. “Maybe.” After a second he admitted, “Yeah.”

At those words, Sam let out a half-smile, and Dean looked somewhat impressed. “How’d you track him down.”

Samuel pulled a machete out of a bag before looking up. “We’re good.” Alex heard the slide of metal against metal, and realized there were other knives in the bag.

Both Alex and Dean frowned at the elusive answer. “That’s all I get? ‘We’re good’?”

“When’s the run?” Sam asked immediately after, directing Samuel’s attention to him.

“Dawn.”

“You didn’t call me?” It was Sam’s turn to sound offended. “Why?”

“Cause of me,” Dean answered for him, voice flat with distaste. “You don’t trust me very much, do you? Especially with big game like this.”

Alex stepped back slightly as tension filled the room,, wings brushing the dark concrete wall.

“That’s not true,” the old hunter began.

“Okay, well, then, we’re in.”

“No offense, but —”

“So you don’t trust me.”

A long pause where Samuel and Dean just stared at each other. “No, I just don’t know you,” Samuel finally said. “Not like I know Sam.”

“All right.” Dean nodded after another few seconds. “You call the plays. One hundred percent. I’m here to listen.”

Samuel chuckled in disbelief. “Since when?”

“Big daddy bloodsucker? I ain’t going to miss that. But this is your deal, okay? I get it. I’ll follow the lead. I trust you.” He glanced at Alex. “Besides, it might be a good idea to have an angel for backup.”

Samuel followed Dean’s gaze. “Her? You want to bring her too?”

Alex’s lips twitched downwards into a frown. “I’m just as capable as you,” she said calmly, resisting the urge to smugly add that she might be better. But she kept quiet, sincerely doubting that.

“Angel, you say?”

Alex nodded. “More or less. Still learning the ropes.”

Samuel turned back to Sam. “You think she’s good enough?”

Sam studied Alex, eyes narrowed in concentration, and Alex confidently held his gaze, her twitching wings the only sign of any apprehension. Then Sam nodded. “She’ll do fine.”

“Fine.” Samuel moved out from behind the desk and towards the door. “Get your things, then. We leave in two hours.”

He left the room, and Alex let out a loud breath. “I don’t think I like him,” she admitted.

She expected at least one rebuke, but Sam didn’t answer, and Dean grunted out something of an agreement. He and Sam left the room, and Alex followed. “I don’t trust him,” Dean said the minute they stepped outside. “Dude’s hiding something.” He made his way towards the Impala.

“What?”

“I can feel it. And if you weren’t Robo-Sam, you’d feel it too.”

“Huh.” Sam let out a huff of amusement.

“What?”

“Just . . . you. Saying you don’t trust family.”

“Look.” Dean turned to face his brother. “We stay close, we blend in, we see what we can pick up.”

“You think Samuel’s connected to this whole soul thing?”

“I think he’s the best lead we got.” Dean opened the trunk, and, after pawing through his bag, pulled out his lock-picking kit and stuck it in his jacket. “I’ll check out the dude’s office. You keep an eye on Christian.” He led them back into the building.

 

 **T** hey walked down a hall and into a large room where at least five people were working. Some were sharpening knives, others were pouring some red liquid — blood? Alex sniffed the air, then recoiled. Deadman’s blood. No wonder vamps didn’t like the stuff. It _reeked_.

Sam found Christian, who was sitting at a far table, lazily sharpening a knife, and sat down across from him. Alex followed Dean over to the small kitchen unit where Dean poured himself a cup of tea. She leaned against the wall by the fridge, while Dean slowly meandered over to the hallway. He took a sip, looking around, and, satisfied that he wasn’t being watched, set down his glass and slipped off.

Less than thirty seconds later, Christian got up and moved after Dean. With a quick glance at Sam, Alex followed. She trailed him down the hallway, footsteps silent on the concrete doors, until they reached the hallway where Samuel’s office was. Christian leaned by the corner, watching Dean, and Alex pressed herself against the wall, waiting in the shadows. She heard the faint whisper of a lock being picked, then a click as it opened.

“You lost, Dean?” Christian stepped forward. Alex moved even closer, closer to where the man had been standing, then immediately wrinkled her nose. The man _stunk_. Like a rotting . . . egg. Alex wondered if angels could smell evil. Because that would explain it.

“Had to make a phone call,” Dean lied smoothly. “Just needed some privacy.”

“Oh. Samuel’s _locked_ office is pretty private.”

“It wasn’t locked.”

“Who you calling?” Christian persisted.

“Your wife,” Dean finally said, displeasure lining his voice. “Let her know I’m not going to make it over tonight.”

“You know, I’ve tried playing nice, Dean, but I think I’m done.” Christian’s voice grew dark, and footsteps signaled him moving, most likely closer to the hunter.

Dean didn’t seem intimidated. “Wait, are you trying to tell me that you’re a bigger knob that you’ve been letting on?”

“I’m the guy who’s been here doing my job. You are you? You think we need you here? You walk around like you’re playing pro tennis. Only action you’ve seen lately is between your slut girlfriend’s legs.”

At those words, Alex stiffened, angry. It was one thing to talk to Dean like that; she’d admit he sometimes deserved it. But bringing Lisa into this made her pissed.

A scuffle of feet and a grunt told her that Dean had the guy pinned up against the wall. Dean said nothing, and Christian broke the silence. “You sure you want to come with us tomorrow?” His voice was icy quiet. “Accidents happen.”

“Hm.” There was a soft sound, and Alex peered around the corner to see Dean let Christian go and step back. “Don’t worry man. I got your back.”

Footsteps approached, and Dean stalked past her. Alex followed, lips twitching downwards into a frown. She didn’t like that man at all.

 

 **T** hey spent the night at the compound, and headed out the next morning even before the sun had risen. Alex rolled down her jacket sleeves, sliding her angel blade up her forearm. It rested there, the metal cool and warm at the same time.

A few hours later, when the sun had just barely risen above the horizon, Dean pulled the Impala up along side Samuel’s van and killed the engine. They threw open the doors and got out. Christian was handing out rifles, and Alex tipped her head. “What’s in them?” she asked him as he handed one to his sister Gwen. “Bullet’s don’t kill vamps.”

“Deadman’s blood.” Samuel answered for her. He placed a machete in his belt loop before accepting a gun. “The house is just over the hill,” he told the gathered hunters. “About a dozen vamps and the alpha. We got one shot at this son of a bitch. Christian, take the flank. The rest of you with me and Sam. Alex, Dean, Gwen . . . hang back, sweep up any stragglers we flush out.” Seeing Dean’s face, he added, “Problem, Dean?”

“No sir,” Dean forced out through gritted teeth.

Gwen, however, had a problem. “I’m in the rear with the rejects?”

Dean looked surprised and offended, and Alex turned on her, eyes flashing. “You want to say that to my face?” she growled.

“Break it up.” Samuel stepped between them. He held out a machete. “Here. All we got left.”

“I don’t need it.” The angel blade slid into Alex’ hand, and she held it up. “Angel, remember?”

“That going to work?”

“Kills everything short of the devil himself,” Alex growled. “And believe me, I’ve tried.” Her wings flared, angry at the way he and everyone else had been treating her and Dean, and her grace sparked through the air. She let the blade slide back up into her sleeve, not missing the looks the action received.

Samuel must have seen it, because his eyes flickered with uncertainty. “Just stay here.” He led the group away.

Sam stopped by Dean. “Don’t worry,” he murmured. “It’s fine.”

“No. Nothing’s fine. You’re not fine.” Dean shook his head. “Go. Just go.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose as he watched his brother hurry off with a quiet sigh. “Come on.” He led them towards their spot.

 

_**A** lex stood with her eyes closed, wings pulled in tight. A thick blindfold sat over her eyes, and the angel rolled her shoulders uncomfortably, listening for any sign of movement. _

_“It doesn’t work like that.” A voice beside her ear had her jumping, and Alex let out a curse._

_“Balthazar,” she snapped. “Dammit! Don’t do that!”_

_“Think of it like a whip” the angel suggested. His grace flicked against hers before pulling back. “In and out in a circle. Effective for checking an area quickly.”_

_Alex nodded, reaching out with her grace. She felt Balthazar, but then he was gone. She instinctually flicked her grace out behind her, and then to each side, trying to find him._

_“There you go.” She felt him behind her, and turned around to face him. She felt gentle wings steady her. “That was good. Keep practicing. It’ll come naturally.”_

_The blindfold came off, and Alex blinked, looking for the blue-eyed angel. He wasn’t there, and Alex frowned, moving off toward the door. It was locked, and her frown deepened. “This isn’t funny,” she warned._

_The angel’s amused voice rang in her head. “One more lesson. Pick the lock.”_

 

 **“S** orry about the ‘reject’ thing,” Gwen apologized as the circled the house from a distance. They stopped in the dew-soaked grass beside a fallen stone building with only a few sections of the wall remaining. Alex irately shook her shoe, trying to get rid of the water soaking through.

Dean’s humor returned. “Ah, I’ve been called worse,” he shrugged.

“I just, uh, get sick of being left behind. Think it’s probably cause I remind him of his daughter or something.”

“Well, you do speak your mind.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You should.”

There was a crackle of twigs. Alex immediately perked up, angel blade sliding back into her hands. She moved off to the left, grace flicking out to try and locate the creature. She moved towards a copse of trees, then stopped, feeling something inhuman. It rested bitterly against her grace, and she spun around towards the source.

A dark shape move swiftly towards Gwen, silent despite its speed. She let out a warning as the creature tackled the woman to the ground, feet carrying her towards the scuffle. Dean was much closer, and reached her first. He pulled the vamp off of her, but it was stronger, pinning him against the dilapidated stone. Then it threw him to the ground. They struggled for barely two seconds before blood sprayed Dean’s face, Gwen’s machete having cut clean through the vampire’s neck. It crumpled, body landing partially on Dean.

He grunted and pushed it away. Gwen smirked as the Winchester struggled to his feet. “You’re welcome.”

Something moved towards Gwen, and Alex raised her arm, and with a flick of her wrist, sent her angel blade flying through the air. It embedded in the vampire’s chest, and its face glowed. It died with a strangled cry. Alex walked past Gwen, nudging the body over with her foot. “You’re welcome,” she quipped back smugly, pulling her blade out of its chest.

“What the hell is that thing?”

“Told you. Kills everything.” Alex wiped it of on the grass before standing back up, flicking her grace out in all directions to make sure they were alone. The action reminded her of a snake’s tongue; flick out one way, then the other, moving in a steady circle, searching for life. Of course, it all happened to fast that she had completely the loop in under a second.

Gwen held out a hand to help Dean on the ground. He ignored her, standing on his own, wiping the blood over his face away with his sleeve. He spit on the ground, clearing his mouth, knowing full well ingesting vampire blood was very, very bad. Then he picked up his machete with a grunt of pain.

Alex opened her mouth to ask if he was okay, but the sound of gunshots through the trees cut her off. Dean heard them too, and took off into the woods. Alex followed immediately without question.

“We’re suppose to stay here!” she heard Gwen yell after them, but she ignored her. She’d follow Dean over Samuel any day.

 

 **D** ean stopped by a large iron fence, staring up at the large, vine covered house. Alex slowed, poised for a fight. She stopped by the fence, peering in. Decapitated vamps lay everywhere. There were at least five just in the front lawn. Among the bodies lay a woman — one of the hunters Samuel had brought with him. Alex didn’t know her name.

She glanced up at Dean to see him staring upwards; following his gaze she found him to be focused on the weather vane. She nudged him gently. “Dean.”

He was pulled out of his thoughts. With a glance at the locked fence, he moved to find another way it.

“Dean!” Alex hissed after him. “I . . . I can get us in.” She stared at the fence, then touched it gently with two fingers, letting her grace flow through. This had been the first thing Balthazar had taught her, and it was extremely simple; the lock broke, and she pushed the gate open, stepping through. “Dean!” Alex skirted the fence in the same direction Dean had gone, hoping to catch up with him at some point.

It wasn’t until they hit the back yard that Dean slipped through a hold in the stone wall. He glanced at her in confusion, but a thud had him looking away. A woman banged on a window, mouth open in a scream. Alex didn’t recognize her, but a second later, the was pulled back behind the blinds. There was a scream, and blood splattered against the window in the typical pattern of decapitation.

As Alex looked around, she realized that bodies lay everywhere, and she pushed away the disgust at the brutality.

Dean moved towards the side of the house, and Alex followed, wings pinned tightly against her back in anticipation and fear. Dean stopped, peering around the corner, and Alex felt him tense. She placed a hand on his back to steady herself as she peered around him.

There were the rest of the hunters. Samuel was leading someone. _Something,_ Alex corrected. It’s head was covered with a black bag, and a hunter was holding high an IV filled with what could only be deadman’s blood. Alex hesitantly reached out with her grace, just barely brushing the creature’s shoulders. She pulled back with a shudder. It was the alpha. It had to be. Alex had never felt a vampire that powerful and overwhelming.

The alpha must have felt it, because it suddenly struggled, trying to get free. There were protests, and Sam stepped forward to help. “Alright, get him in there,” Samuel instructed, pushing the alpha towards the van.

Together, the hunters forced the alpha into the back of the red van. Alex felt Dean stiffen, and she looked up in concern. The van door closed, and it drove away. Suddenly Dean pulled her out of sight, nudging her away. “Let’s get back,” he whispered, voice hoarse.

Alex nodded, and let him take the lead.

 

 **T** hey found Gwen beside the rusty green pickup. She turned around as they approached. “Where were you?” she snapped, worry and anger in his voice.

“Is everything okay here?” Samuel and the rest of the hunters walked up to them, and Alex blinked at just how close that had been.

Gwen looked between Samuel, and Dean, mouth open, looking for a response. Dean said nothing, letting her answer instead. “Just chopped down a runner,” she finally said when Samuel stopped in front of her. “How’d it go?”

“Rough, but one alpha down.” Samuel moved to get into the truck he drove.

“Where is it?” Dean suddenly asked. “Want to pay my last respects.”

“Well, bring marshmallows. Already on the pyre.”

At those words, Alex raised her head. She was surprised they already had the bodies burning; she could smell the acidic tang of burning wood, as well as the sweet, smokey scent of burning flesh.

“What’s she doing?” Samuel pointed to Alex.

“What?” Alex immediately lowered her her head. “Nothing. Nothing.”

  
 “Alright.” Samuel got into the truck. It roared to life, and he drove away. The other cars followed, leaving Alex and and the Winchesters alone with the Impala. Sam opened his door. Dean followed, getting into the drivers side, and the engine purred. Alex slid into her spot.

 

 **T** he sky was dark. They were almost back to Lansing, Michigan, where the Campbells had set up base. Finally, Dean spoke. “Things go okay back there?”

“Fine.”

“Nothing weird?”

Sam shook his head.

Dean had enough. He pulled the the car to the side of the road, tires screeching as he stopped. He killed the engine and through open the door, getting out. Sam followed, and Alex slumped in her seat, not sure if this was going to escalate into a full-fledged fight.

“I saw you walk that alpha out the door, Sam,” Dean accused, voice sharp with anger. “Now, call me crazy, but . . . that sounds weird.”

Sam hesitated, taking in that information. “Oh,” he finally said.

“ ‘Oh.’ ” Dean repeated, voice terse.

“You . . . weren’t suppose to know about that,” Sam expounded.

“Know what?”

“It’s something Samuel’s been doing. Catching things, taking them somewhere, grilling them for info.” By the look of Sam’s calm actions, he didn’t seem to realize how pissed Dean really was at him. Alex shifted uncomfortably. He really didn’t seem to think that that was wrong.

“Grill. Torture, right? And not telling me — that was his idea?”

“No. It was mine.”

Dean blinked in surprise, gaze dropping to the ground as he processed that. He looked back up. “Why?”

“Honestly? Because you’d mess it up. You shoot first, ask questions later, and we needed to ask questions.” Alex couldn't help but have to agree with Sam. That did sound like Dean.

Dean shook his head, turning his back and talking a step away “You know, I-I don’t care if you’ve got soullessness or the fucking mumps, man —“ He spun round, eyes flashing. “You know better than this! Do you even want your soul back?”

“How does that have anything to do —”

Dean cut him off. “Have you been to the place where Samuel takes them? I mean, have you been in on these . . . interrogations?”

“No, but I hear—”

“And why? Did it ever occur to you that this is _really_ shady?”

A pause.

“He’s our grandfather,” Sam finally said.

“Yeah. Yeah, a guy who talks a great game. But you can’t assume that family means the same thing to him as it does to us. He’s not Dad.” He studied his brother. “Wow. You don’t see it, do you?”

“What?”

“You’ve got no instinct. I mean, you are seriously messed up.”

Sam blinked. “Thanks.”

“I’m not kidding, man. Nobody’s forcing you to work with me, okay? But if we do this . . . I drive the bus, I call the shots, and you tell me everything, whether you think it’s important or not because — trust me — you can’t tell the difference. Or you know what? Go, go with Samuel. See how that goes. It’s up to you.” Without waiting for an answer, Dean got back into the car.

Sam followed. Dean started the car and pulled back onto the road.

 

 **W** hen they reached the compound, Sam got out and walked into the main building. Alex watched, not sure where he was going. He had remained completely silent for the rest of the drive. Dean killed the engine. Alex leaned forward slightly, not sure what they were doing. She quietly voice her question.

“Waiting,” was the only answer she got. Alex fell into silence.

 

 **H** alf an hour later Sam returned. He slid into the car, and Dean shifted, sitting up straighter. “Hey.”

“You didn’t think I’d come back,” Sam guessed.

“I figured sixty-forty.”

“So, Samuel didn’t take the bait. So I went with a plan ‘B’.” Sam pulled his laptop out of his bag and powered it up.

“We had a plan B?”

“Fired up the GPS on one of his cellphones.” Sam opened ARC Mobile. “We should be able to track him right to the alpha.”

“The old man won’t notice?”

Sam let out a breath of amusement. “Trust me. He thinks Velcro is big news.” A red dot appeared on the map with a small beep. “There. Got him.”

Dean fired up the engine. “Then let’s go.”

 

 **I** t looked to be about an hour drive. Twenty minutes in, Alex grabbed her bag and threw it against the door, using it as a makeshift pillow. She closed her eyes, a little tired, but mostly bored. She was able to fall asleep.

 

 **“ _L_** _i mohaoth_.” Lucifer was sitting on the couch when she appeared. “Welcome back.”

Alex just grunted in confusion. “I don’t get it.”

Lucifer frowned, and patted the couch next to him. “Don’t get what?”

“If _mohaoth_ means love, what does _a-aziazor_ mean?” Alex sat down beside him, hands in her lap.

Lucifer grunted. “ _This_ is what you want to talk about?” Before Alex could respond, he sunk deeper into the couch, a wing curling around her. “ _Aziazor_ is the verb for love or adore. _Mohaoth_ . . .” The angel searched for an apt comparison. “It’s a word like your noun for love. Someone that is cherished. They’re different words in Enochian, while your language uses the same word for both meanings.”

“Alright.” Alex still didn’t totally get it, but recognized Lucifer’s disinterest in the subject. “So . . .”

“So indeed.” Lucifer turned his head to look at her. “How is Sam doing? I only have his soul now.”

“Yeah.” Alex pouted. “How are you treating him? I hope you’re not being mean.”

Lucifer shrugged indifferently. “Apart from you, I have nothing else to do. He did betray me, after all.”

“Don’t hurt him.” Alex climbed into the archangel’s lap. “Please?” She rested one hand on the back of his head to steady herself, eyes wide and pleading.

One hand went to her hip, and the other went to the back of her neck. “I’ll see what I can do,” he promised, voice quiet. “But in exchange, you’re going to have to do something for me.”

Alex frowned, pulling away slightly. “Luce . . .”

The archangel’s lips flickered downwards in displeasure. “I know.” He tugged her head closer, fingers twining through her thin blonde hair. “But if I’m not going to play with Sam, I need something else pleasurable to do instead.”

Alex dropped her head, forehead resting against the archangel’s. “I don’t want you to hurt him,” she murmured, torn. “C — What do you want?”

Lucifer cupped her cheek, raising her head level with his. “Your heart’s not in it,” he rumbled. “I won’t take you that far until I have your consent, Alex.”

“But I can’t give you that.” Alex’s voice rose almost in a wail. “You know that, Luce.”

“I know.” Pleasantly cold fingers traced the bumps in her spine. “But I can keep asking.” He leaned up, lips brushing against hers. “After all, the worse you can do is say no.”

 

 **A** lex jolted awake, eyes wide. Her wings flared wide, hitting the roof of the car. “What the hell?”

“We’re here.” Sam was leaning over the seat, shaking her awake. “Get up.”

“Sympathy, man.” Alex sat up. “Be nice to the sleeping angel.” She felt her face flush as her dream came back, but she pushed it away and slipped out of the car, focusing instead on the familiar comfort of the angel blade resting against her forearm. She followed them towards the large warehouse, noticing immediately the red van that was parked right outside the door.

Dean tried the door, but it was locked. Alex stood behind the two Winchesters, keeping an eye out behind.

“Deadman’s blood?” she heard Sam asked, and glanced up to see his fingers wet with blood which he seemed to have wiped straight off of the door.

She leaned forward, sniffing, then recoiled. “Yeah. Deadman’s blood.”

Dean glanced at her, one eyebrow cocked. “You can tell that by smelling it?” he asked, disbelief in his voice.

“It’s an angel thing. Heightened senses.” The female angel shrugged. “I smelled the same thing back at the compound.”

“Well, it’s smart,” the older Winchester admitted. “Lock the place down with vamp repellant.” He pulled out a pick and a rake and moved towards the lock while Sam pulled out his machete, turning to watch his back.

Alex nudged Dean out of the way. “I’ll do it,” she insisted.

“I was almost done.”

Alex brushed her fingers over the lock, pushing her grace inside and unlocking the pins. At the same time she twisted the lock, and the door swung open. She stepped back, letting Dean go first. He stared at her for a second, then shrugged. Alex took up the back.

They went up and down darkened hallways on silent feet, weapons at the ready. There was a noise, and Dean turned to Alex. He held up his pointer finger, shaking it back and forth. _Where?_

Alex touched her temple with all five fingers, then flicked her hand down so her palm was facing down. She added a shake of her head. _I don’t know_ , she responded. She had been working on her sign language, which was commonly used during hunts by a lot of hunters. The necessary signs were easy, and completely silent.

Dean nodded, then turned down hall. Alex slid her angel blade into her hand, poised and waiting.

The only warning they got was the sound of metal sliding across the floor. Dean pulled her into an open room and down behind a desk. Sam hid behind the door.

Footsteps passed, then stopped. They returned to the room, and Alex heard Sam and Dean hold their breaths. She lifted her head slightly, breathing in through her nose, and reaching out with her grace, trying to sense who it was. Christian. She immediately recoiled before her grace reached him, nose wrinkling at his foul stench. She was glad her grace hadn’t touched him; it would take forever for his taint to leave. She held her breath until the footsteps disappeared.

Eventually Dean stood up. He checked the halls, then motioned them after him, stopping beside a large metal door. “Where is it?” That was Samuel. “Answer the question. Where is it? How do we find it?”

Dean and Sam exchanged looks, then Dean quietly slid open the door. Alex stooped slightly to peer under Sam and Dean’s heads. Samuel sat in a chair, their backs to him. In front of him sat the alpha, bound in chains and locked in an iron cage. Alex shivered. Dark skin, long, curved fingernails, dark eyes. Large nails were embedded in his hands and feet.

Dean pulled Alex away from the door, and she pressed her back into the wall, waiting. That’s when she heard a hum, and her curiosity overtook her, leaning back in. Electricity sparked through the air, touching down on the iron nails. The alpha barely reacted, holding Samuel’s gaze confidently. “Ouch, stop,” he said, deep voice laced with sarcasm. “That hurts.”

Alex immediately returned to the wall as the electricity died. She heard Samuel’s voice. “This is club med compared to what we have planned for you.”

She heard the alpha let out a quiet, yet uncaring, “Oh.”

“I got — I got all the time in the world,” Samuel added.

“Well, that makes two of us.”

Alex heard the sound of metal clanking, and peered in with the Winchesters. Samuel stood there, back to them, holding a machete. He and the alpha stared at each other, then Samuel angrily through the weapon back onto the table, stalking off. They heard a heavy door close.

Sam and Dean looked at each other, nodded, then moved to leave when —

“Are you three going to hide all night?” the alpha asked. “Come on out.”

Dean and Sam looked at each other, unsure. Then Dean reluctantly pushed the door open, revealing them to the alpha.

“How can I help you?” the alpha chuckled.

Dean found his voice first. “We’ve got some questions for you, skippy. Since you’re going nowhere fast.”

“Don’t be so sure.” As they got closer, Alex could see that iron chains went down his chest, connecting to an iron waistband. An IV was stuck in his neck, constantly pumping in what could only be deadman’s blood.

“Yeah? Locked down pretty tight. And with all that dead blood rushing through your veins, not sure you’ve got enough juice to power up that psychic bat-signal of yours, do you?”

“True. Not near enough juice for that . . . Dean.”

Dean tipped his head. “I didn’t realize we were on a first name basis.”

“Of course we are. After all, you were my child . . . for a time. Dean, tell me . . . did you enjoy it?”

Dean approached, motioning with his weapon. “I’m asking the questions here, fright night.” To prove his point, he pushed the large button on the cage, and electricity jumped into the alpha, who stiffened only slightly.

“When your kind first huddle around the fire, I was the thing in the dark!” The alpha growled. “Now you think you can hurt me?” When Dean turned off the power, he continued. “I have all night, boys. You do not. Anyways, I’m happy to tell you whatever you want to know.”

Alex frowned in confusion, and Sam voiced her thoughts. “Why?”

“Why?” the alpha repeated. “Because soon, I’ll be ankle deep in your blood, sucking the marrow out of your bones.”

At those words, Alex’s blade dropped into her hands, and she adjusted her stance accordingly, ready.

The alpha just chuckled. “You’ve got an angel among you.” He looked Alex straight in the eyes. “I thought I felt you yesterday.”

Alex just let out a low growl.

“So you’re really it?” Sam tried to change the conversation, moving closer. “The first of your kind?”

“The very first.”

“But if you’re the first . . . who made you?” Alex looked up at Sam to see his eyes narrowed, a face he had been making a lot recently. She didn’t like it. It made him look . . . soulless.

The alpha vampire let out a chuckle. “We all have our mothers. Even me.”

“Eve.” The name left Alex’s tongue before she could stop herself.

“You know her?” The alpha tipped his head. “A little young, aren’t you?”

“Maybe, maybe not.”

“When you’re my age, you can sense when others are as old as you,” the alpha said quietly. “You’re new to this.”

“What’s up with this big surge of vamps lately?” Dean asked, turning the alpha’s attention to him. “I mean, like —”

“Like we’re going to war.”

“Why?” Sam asked. “What’s going on? Why did Samuel bring you here?”

Instead of answering, the alpha tipped his head up, nostrils flaring. “You smell cold,” he informed him, watching at the two Winchesters shifted uncomfortably. “You have no soul. What an oddity. Do you feel how empty you are? What is it like to have no soul? Answer my question.”

“You first. You’re the one in the cage.”

“The thing about souls,” the alpha continued. “If you’ve got one, of course — is they’re so predictable. You go up, you go down. But where do my kind go?” His voice grew more urgent, more intense at the change of topic.

“Alright, enough with the sermon, freak.”

“I’m trying to answer the question. Now. When we ‘freaks’ die, where do we go? Not heaven, not hell. So?”

“Legoland?” Dean guessed dryly.

“Purgatory,” Alex corrected. “They go to purgatory.”

“Very good,” the alpha praised, nodding slightly. “Been reading your Dante, haven’t you?”

“Purgatory?” Dean repeated, looking down at her. “Purgatory’s real?”

“Oh, stupid cattle.” The alpha let out a chuckle. “Of course! And it is filled with the soul of every hungry thing like me that ever walked this earth. Now, where is it? _That_ is the mystery. And that’s what your kindhearted granddaddy’s trying to beat out of me.”

“Samuel brought you here . . . to find out where Purgatory is?” Sam moved even closer, confused.

“I keep telling him — how would I know such a thing? But he refused to untie me.”

Alex felt Sam and Dean look down at her. The alpha also turned his attention to her, and she blushed under their stares. “Of course you know where it is,” she huffed. “You should know where your mommy’s planted. You’re the best lead anyone’s got.”

“Why does Samuel care anyways?” Sam added.

“He doesn’t care.” He paused to let those words set in. “He does as he’s told.”

At those words, Alex stiffened. She knew exactly who Samuel was working for. Who else could it be?

“Well, if the old man’s Kermit,” Dean asked. “Whose hand’s up his ass?”

The sound of a gun cocking had the three of them turning around. “Evening, guys.” It was Samuel. To his left stood Christian, and to his right another Campbell who Alex didn't know. He motioned with his gun, and the three of them moved towards them cautiously. Samuel and Christian led them out into the hall, leaving the third man alone with the alpha.

They stepped out into the hallway, and Samuel closed the door. “Weapons on the floor,” he instructed.

Sam and Dean complied. They dropped their guns and machetes on the ground. “Wow, you know, I have seen some stupid in my time, but you take the crown. Putting Jaws in a fishbowl? How do you think that’s going to end? I don’t know what kind of game you’re running —”

“What, you think I’ve been doing this for kicks?” Samuel pointed at Alex. “Weapons. Now.”

Alex threw her gun on the ground with a growl.

“Silver thing too.”

“Make me,” Alex growled, resisting the urge to flinch as Samuel swung the gun towards her.

“I think you’ve got the rest of these feeb think that you’re John Wayne,” Dean snapped back. “So whatever you’re doing, whatever you’re hiding . . . it’s going to put you and everyone around you in the ground.” Then, while Samuel’s attention were still on her, Dean knocked Samuel’s gun away, shoving him into the wall. At the same moment, Sam pinned Christian against the other wall. Alex slid out her angel blade, stepping forward to press the edge against Samuel’s throat.

Dean reached for his gun, but froze when there was the sound of a rifle being pumped. “Gwen,” he sighed, dropping his gun and straightening up. “And I thought we had something special.”

Alex stepped away from the older hunter, letting her blade slide back up into her sleeve.

“Put it on the ground,” Gwen commanded.

Alex had enough. She stepped forward. “What are you going to do?” she challenged. “You going to shoot me?”

The discharge of the gun reached her ears only seconds after the bullet pierced her chest. Alex felt the round slow, then stop before her grace pushed it backwards. It clattered to the ground by her feet. Alex looked down at the hole in her shirt with a small frown. Gwen took a step back, and she looked back up. “Angel, remember?”

A scream stopped anyone from responding. She turned back towards the door, wings flaring wide.

“Grab your guns,” she heard Samuel instruct the Winchesters before pushing past her into the room. Alex followed, accepting her gun from Dean. She slipped it back into her waistband as she stepped into the room.

The first thing she saw was the man on the floor. Dead. Quite dead, judging by the gashes in his throat. Then she noticed the empty cage, and her blood ran cold. She tried to reach out with her grace, but it flickered out, and she huffed. She still needed a few minutes to let it regather; she had used a lot of it from stopping that bullet.

Dean hurried over to the cage, looking at the open door.

“How much deadman’s blood we got left?” Samuel asked, walking over to the far door.

In response, Christian held up two syringes of blood.

“How long till the alpha’s at one hundred percent?”

“Hour, maybe less.” Samuel said, studying the mess of deadman’s blood on the ground. “We need to get him dosed up and back in that cage.”

“No.” Dean approached.

Samuel moved closer, angry confusion in his eyes. “What do you mean by ‘no’?”

“I mean, I don’t know what your big plan was, but playing catch is not on the table,” Dean snapped.

“Dean —”

“We take this thing’s head off, or it kills us all! You know that.”

Samuel paused, looking up at Christian. Then he acquiesced.

“Okay.” Dean nodded, taking charge. “We split up. Clear every room. You get a shot, you take it. It won’t kill him but the dude’ll move a lot slower without any kneecaps.” He turned to Samuel. “And if we make it through this, you, me and Sam are having one hell of a family meeting.”

Dean walked away, and Gwen followed. Alex moved after them, blowing a huff of air out of her nose as she passed Christian. Dude needed to take a bath. Seriously. She hurried after the two hunters.

 

 **T** hey searched the north half of the building. Alex eventually tried her grace again; this time she was able to search the entire building. “Dean.” Alex froze when she picked up the alpha. “I found him.” There was something else. She pushed against it, again and again, trying to figure out what it was. Then she froze. She had felt something like this before. “Demon.”

“Crowley?”

“No, no.” Alex took off down the hall. She heard Dean and Gwen follow close behind. “But still. It’s bad.” They turned down several hallways until Alex slid to a stop inside a room. The alpha was holding Sam by the neck. She rushed forward, but suddenly Christian was there, stabbing a syringe into the alpha’s neck.

The vampire let go with a cry, and Christian spun around. In that brief instant, Alex saw his face. It was dark and twisted in pain. Without wasting a second, she moved forward, angel blade in hand, ready to kill the demon.

Then she was shoved away, and two men appeared. They and Christian grabbed the alpha, who cried in pain. Then they were gone. She heard three slow claps. “Well, that was dramatic.”

Alex struggled to her feet, looking up on the catwalk towards the source of the voice. “Crowley.”

“Hello, love. What an unexpected treat.” Crowley walked down the stairs.

“Bring Christian back now.” Samuel stepped forward menacingly.

“I’m sorry?” Crowley stopped on the third stair, head tipped.

“My nephew. The one you just crammed a demon into.”

“Oh. No. I had him possessed a long time ago.” The demon reached the main floor and approached. “Samuel, really. I keep an eye on my investments.”

 _That explains why he reeked._ Alex hadn’t experienced sensing a demon that was hiding within a human without taking control. It felt different. She shuddered, feeling the taint on her grace. She walked over to Dean, all the while watching Crowley. He was staring up at Samuel, who was standing on the higher half of the floor, looking down at the demon.

“Whoa whoa whoa whoa. Wait.” Dean motioned to both Crowley and Samuel. “You two know each other?”

“Not in the Biblical sense,” Crowley quipped. “More of a business relationship, I’d say.”

Samuel just stared at the demon, mouth open slightly.

Sam looked to his grandfather. “You’re Crowley’s bitch.”

“It’s now what you think,” the older hunter insisted weakly, turning his head to look at Dean.

“It’s precisely what you think,” Crowley corrected. “And the alpha he got me is getting him a gold star.”

“Since when do you care about vampires?”

“Since, uh . . .” Crowley approached Dean, and Alex took a step back, “what’s today? Friday? Since, let’s see — none of your business.” He walked past Dean, and everyone turned.

“You may as well share with the class, Crowley. We know you’re looking for Purgatory.”

Crowley turned to look at the Winchester. “So you heard about that?”

“Yeah. You want to tell us why?”

Alex let out a huff. “Obvious, isn’t it?”

Crowley’s eyes flashed. “Location, location, location,” he told the Winchesters. “I’m a developer. Purgatory is vast, underutilized, and hell-adjacent, and I want it.” He watched as Alex grunted, but she said nothing.

“What for?” Dean persisted.

“Best shut your gob. Employees don’t question management.”

“We ain’t your employees.”

“Of course you are! Have been for some time, thanks to gramps. I don’t keep Captain Chromedome around for his wit, do I?” He looked over at Samuel. “Samuel knows things. More than any of you, actually. Walking encyclopedia of the creepy and crawly. And I knew . . . you two are so hung up on family-loyalty nonsense, he said jump, you two’d go froggy.” He looked down at Alex. “And of course, you’d do whatever Dean told you to.”

Alex snorted in disbelief. Realizing she was still holding her angel blade, she let her grace pull it back up into her sleeve, crossing her arms.

“Yeah, well, that game’s over.”

“Yeah, well, afraid not. Not if you want to see Sam’s soul again.”

“You’re bluffing,” Sam said.

Crowley studied Sam before glancing at the hunter. “Tell ‘em, Samuel.”

“He pulled us both back, me and Sam,” Samuel told Dean quietly.

“What?” Sam sounded pissed. “You knew?”

“No.” Dean shook his head. “Cas says it takes big-time mojo to pull something off like that, and you’re nothing but a punk-ass crossroads demon.”

“Crossroads demon?” Alex looked up at the Winchester. “You’re kidding right? You don’t know?”

“Know? Know what?”

“King of Hell.” Crowley looked smug. “Believe me. I’ve got the mojo. I snap my fingers, Sam gets his soul back. _Or_. You can just be . . . you, and I shove Sam back in the hole. Can’t imagine what it’s like in there . . . and I can imagine _so_ many things. So. We clear? Me, Charlie. You, angels.” He looked between the two Winchesters. “Job’s simple enough; bring me creatures. Aim high on the food chain, please. Everybody wins. It’s been a pleasure. See you soon.” Then Crowley was gone.

Dean stared at his brother before Samuel broke the silence. “It’s time to go. Gwen, get the van.” He turned to leave.

“You’re letting a demon call the shots?” Gwen snapped, stepping towards Samuel.

“Nothing’s changed. We hunt. Period. Don’t worry about him; I’ll take care of it.” He looked up, holding Gwen’s gaze. “You trust me or not? Get the van, Gwen.”

Gwen spun around and stalked off, and Sam turned to Samuel, who had started packing his weapons. “Working with a demon, huh? You’re not who I thought you were.”  
 Samuel looked up, voice defensive. “You don’t know anything about me, son.”

Dean moved towards him. “So, what’s so important that you’re the King of Hell’s cabana boy, huh? What’d he offer you? Girls? Money?” Dean guessed. “Hair?”

Alex could barely hold back a snort of laughter, and she turned away.

“I got my reasons.” The hunter picked up the bag and walked towards Dean. Dean didn’t move, and Samuel looked up.. “You gonna make a move, go ahead.”

“Or what?” Dean challenged.

“Or nothing. I’m not going to do anything to you, Dean. You boys . . . you’re my family. So the way I see it, you got two choices . . . Put a bullet in your grandfather or step aside.”

Alex heard the sound of a gun cocking, and she looked up to see Sam holding his handgun. Dean reached out, lowering Sam’s gun. “He sold us out,” the younger Winchester insisted.

“I know. Let it go.”

“Why?”

Dean looked down at Samuel. He shook his head. “Get out of here.”

Samuel acquiesced, and Alex followed, not wanting to see what was going to go down.

“Alex.” Dean’s voice stopped her cold. “Stay here.”

The female angel stopped, and slowly backtracked. She wasn’t sure where this was going. “I don’t know anything . . .” she began.

“We can’t work for Crowley,” Dean interrupted.

Sam tipped his head. “You sure about that?”

“I don’t think you understand. Demons bone you every time.”

“Oh no, I get it.” Sam immediately backtracked. “I do, believe me. Just, running the math — do we really have another choice?” He looked down at Alex.

Alex shrugged. “I don’t know what else we could do,” she said quietly.

“We could stab him in the throat,” Dean suggested.

“And get my soul back how?” Sam added.

“What about Death?”

“You really want to fuck with Death?” his brother countered.

“I think Crowley’s the best shot we have,” Alex agreed.

“So we’re just going to have to play ball, at least for the moment.”

Dean shook his head, still not onboard. He walked a few steps away before turning back to them “I’ve done some stupid things in my time, but punching a demon’s clock?”

“I don’t like it either,” Alex agreed, “But it’s the best of the worst.”

“Look, this is just until we find another way.”

“And then?”

Sam’s gaze hardened. “And then we track Crowley down and give that son of a bitch what’s coming to him. You with me, Dean?”

Dean hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah. I’m with you.”


	5. All Dogs Go to Heaven

**A** lex took a bite of her ribs, then dropped the bone with a grunt. It was a week later, and they were still only about one hundred miles south of Michigan. Dean had insisted that they keep driving from place to place, and all Alex wanted was to stop at a motel and watch tv. However they had stopped for lunch at a local Rib Shack only for a quick break. She glanced over at the older Winchester; he was deep in conversation on the phone, undoubtably with Bobby, from what she could discern.

As she watched, Crowley appeared right behind Dean. “Crowley thinks you’re just gonna what, Dean?” he asked. Dean immediately snapped his mouth shut. “Is that Bobby Singer?” Crowley continued. “Give him a kiss for me.” He chuckled, and walked past Dean, making is way over to Alex and Sam. Alex noted that there was a newspaper under his left arm, and she tipped her head, wondering why.

“I’ll call you back,” Dean said, snapping his phone close. Then he followed.

“Good news, boys and girls! I’ve got a job for you.” Crowley pulled up a chair, spun it around, and sat down. Sam dropped his fork in disgust, leaning away from the demon.

Dean sat down next to Alex. “I’m going to say this once,” the hunter growled, leaning forward. “You can take your job and shove it up your ass.”

“Is that anyway to talk to your boss?” Crowley asked, voice filled with mock offense.

“You’re not my boss, dickbag.”

Alex reached out and put a hand on Dean’s arm, calming him down. His anger wasn’t helping; if anything, it only making the demon more amused.

“Dean, Dean.” The King of Hell clicked his tongue. “Been through this. Quit clutching your pearls. You’ve been working for me for some time. Sam here longer.”

“We didn’t know,” Sam insisted.

Alex shook her head. “Like that makes a difference,” she huffed.

Crowley nodded approvingly. “Exactly. Glad at least one of you is making sense.” He turned back to Sam. “Let’s be honest. You’d sell your brother for a dollar right now if you _really_ needed a soda.” Alex didn’t miss the pained expression on Dean’s face at those words. Crowley continued. “Look. I’m sending you —”

“No.”

“Beg pardon?” Crowley tipped his head to look at Dean.

“I’ve done some shady stuff in my time, but I am not doing this. No.”

“Ten quid says you will.” He casually reached over, touching the back of Sam’s hand. The hunter cried out, pulling away, and Alex heard the sound the sound of bacon sizzling. Except it wasn’t bacon; it was Sam’s flesh. The hunter cradled his hand as the burning sound continued.

“You like pain, Sam? You like hell?” He turned to Dean. “You need to stop thinking of this as some sort of a deal. This is a hostage situation, you arrogant little thug. I own your brother! Do you understand me?”

Alex bumped shoulders with the hunter. “Dean. Just give up.” She lowered her voice. “You’re not gaining anything by doing this.”

“Listen to the littlest angel,” Crowley suggested. “She’s got more sense than the two of you combined.”

Dean glared at the demon for several more seconds before looking away. He nodded.

Crowley snapped his fingers, and Alex heard Sam let out a breath of relief as the pain disappeared. “Come on, Dean, smile.” When Dean didn’t respond, the demon continued. “It’s not that bad. Here’s incentive — you bag me a live alpha, and I’ll give you little Sammy’s soul back, with a cherry on top.”

“And you’ll leave me alone,” Alex added, wings flaring out slightly.

Crowley ignored her. “Well?”

“What?” Sam found his voice. “Alpha vamp not good enough for you?”

“Best mind where you poke your nose, if you want to keep it,” the demon warned. “Your merry little hike up the food chain starts here.” He dropped the newspaper he had been carrying on the table. Alex glanced at the headline. _Businessman Falls Victim to Animal Attack._ “Businessman found dead in his car — chest ripped open, heart missing. Sounds like?”

Sam took the article, quickly scanning it. “Werewolf,” he answered.

Dean shook his head firmly. “No, it’s not a full moon.”

“Werewolves turning on the full moon — so ’09.”

“He’s right.” Sam quickly backed the demon up. “Samuel and I ganked one about six months back on a half-moon. Things have been out of whack for a while now, I guess.”

“Yeah,” Alex agreed. “World went to hell after the apocalypse. Had to do with Purgatory or something. I don’t remember.”

“What is she talking about?” Crowley tipped his head, and Alex snapped her mouth shut. But it was too late. “You don’t remember what?” the demon pressed.

“Apparently where she’s from this was all a show,” Sam explained, and Alex glared at him. “She’s seen it, so she knows what’s going to happen.”

“Thanks a lot, Sam,” Alex snapped, kicking him under the table. “Tell the demon all of our secrets, why don’t you? It’s not like he’s the fucking King of Hell! See, this — this is why you need your soul back!”

Sam didn’t seem to get it, and Alex crossed her arms, fuming.

Crowley watched their exchange silently. “So you know the future, now do you, darling,” he finally said. “The plot thickens.”

“You can’t get into my head,” Alex growled. “Cas built a wall. No angels or demons can get in .” Of course, she didn’t want Crowley to even try.

However, the demon didn’t seem interested; like that meant anything. “So, it’s settled then.” He stood up. “You bag the howler, bring it back to papa. See you, boys. Alex.” Then he was gone.

Alex shoved the last of her fries into her mouth. “Let’s get out of here.”

 

**September 2nd, 2011**

**Buffalo, New York**

**T** hey stopped at a motel early the next afternoon. Alex promptly collapsed on the far bed. She rolled over, a hand over her lower abdomen.

“You okay?” Dean dropped his bag on the other bed, watching her worriedly.

Alex tipped her head to look at him. “Uh . . . I think I’m in heat,” she whispered quietly, wings falling out across the bedsheets.

“Shit.” Dean immediately joined her on the bed. “Seriously? S-Should I call Cas?”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine.” Dean reached out and felt her forehead. “You sure you’re in heat? You don’t feel to warm. Why are you having it in October?”

“Heats aren’t regular for the first couple times.” Alex sat up. “Lucifer did something,” she hurriedly admitted. “I don’t know what, but it’s going to keep my heats minimal until . . . I don’t know when. Until I actually take a mate, hopefully.”

“So you’re not going to go through . . . that again.”

“No. Hopefully not.” Alex sniffed the air, which was heavy with her scent. “Still, I shouldn’t do a whole lot of hunting.” She sniffed her shoulder. “I _reek_.”

Sam came back into the room carrying both Dean and Sam’s bag. “Hey. Have you seen my grey shirt?” he asked his brother.

Alex looked up. “ Yeah, I’m uh, I’m wearing it.” She sat up to pull free the extra fabric from her jacket. “See, this is why you guys need to give me a heads up before Cas zaps me away.” She hesitated, then let out a long sigh. “I’ll call Balthazar and Cas. Maybe now that I’m in heat one of them will actually show up so I can get my stuff,” she added with a mutter, too low for either Winchester to hear.

“Okay.” Dean stood up. “Me and Sam are going to check out the newest crime scene. You just hang tight here.”

“Yup.” Alex watched Dean disappear into the bathroom. “Sounds good.” She turned on the tv with a snap of her fingers — another trick Balthazar had taught her — effectively ignoring Sam, who was changing into his suit to her right.

 

 **W** hen they left, Alex looked up towards the ceiling. “Alright. Castiel and Balthazar. Either of you available? I need something. It’s kind of important.”

“You’re in heat.”

“That I am.” Alex shifted uncomfortably at Balthazar’s voice. “I dislike it.” She stood up.

“Don’t touch her.” Suddenly Castiel was at her back, wings curling around her.

“Whoa.” Alex stumbled out of his grasp. “No. Not why you’re here.” She looked between the two angels. “Sorry. I only need one of you.”

“I’ll stay.” Castiel glared over at the other angel, wings rising in a hint of possession.

“I don’t need one of you to stay,” Alex said gently, brushing her wing over the top of his. “I just need someone to go to Bobby’s and get me my clothes. Unlike you angels, I like wearing different things. Call me human if you want.”

Alex knew Castiel was disappointed, and his wings dropped to his side. “If this is something you can handle,” he said, addressing Balthazar, “I have a war to get back to.” He looked down at Alex, and his voice dropped dangerously low. “If he touches you, I’ll kill him.” Then he was gone.

Balthazar sighed. “I’m not your servant,” he told Alex, slightly cross. “I’m not here to do your errands.”

“I’d go if I could fly,” Alex promised. “Please? If you want, you can take me with. I’ll pack.”

The amber-winged angel stepped forward, holding out his hand. “Very well.” Alex took his hand, and he yanked her close. Then they were flying.

The next second they were standing in Alex’s room at Bobby’s. Alex grabbed her duffle bag off of the floor, and turned to her closet, trying to ignore how Balthazar crowded her back. She heard his feathers ruffle, and turned. “B,” she said gently. “Go sit on the bed. Please.”

A low growl rumbled through the angel’s chest, but he did as he was asked. Alex continued packing her things. She could feel the angel’s gaze follow her, and when she stooped down to pick up her journal, she heard the angel’s wings flare. She stood up. “Balthazar.”

“Ooh, I like it when you say my name like that,” the angel said, his accent heavy with those words.

“No.” Alex turned to look at him. “You’re not helping my with my heats.”

“Please?” the angel all but begged. “You smell _so_ good.” He stood up, but Alex extended a wing, stopping him. “Fine.” He sat back down. “But you owe me.”

“I owe you nothing.” Alex slung her bag over her shoulder. “We can go.” She held out her hand, and Balthazar stood up, wings stretching out, brushing the walls. “B.” Alex wiggled her fingers, encouraging him to hurry up.

The angel took her hand, and then they were back at the motel. Alex dropped her bag on the ground, listening for the sound of the angel leaving. “I’ll call Cas,” she warned when she still felt Balthazar in the room, ignoring the sudden rush of warmth though her. “Seriously. Go.”    
Balthazar disappeared, and Alex turned her attention to the tv. Good. She hadn’t missed much.

 

 **“M** orning.” Sam’s voice woke her up. She sleepily rolled over to see that Dean was awake and looking at Sam. His movements were still a little slow, telling her he also had just woken up.

“You didn’t sleep,” Dean mumbled out. “Cause you don’t . . . sleep.” He ran a hand down his face, waking up even more.

“Right.” Alex looked over to see Sam wearing his dress pants and a pale blue oxford.

“Yeah. That’s not creepy at all.”

“Not like I can help it,” Sam countered. “So you just going to lay there and stare at me, or do you want to hear what I dug up?” He shrugged on his suit jacket. When Dean raised his hand in agreement, Sam continued. “Alright. So we know that werewolves are basically Id gone wild, right? I mean, whoever they hate, they kill when they wolf out. So, I’ve been playing connect the victim.”

“Good place to start.” Alex ran a hand through her tangled blonde hair. “What’d you find?”

“I think I found a common denominator. So, uh, come on.” Sam tossed Dean his fake ID. “Get the lead out, huh?”

Dean let out a groan, barely catching it. “Let me get dressed, Robocop.”

Alex watched the hunter disappear into the bathroom. “You . . . didn’t by any chance grab breakfast, did you?”

“Nope.” Sam turned back to his papers.

“Are we going to get breakfast?” the young angel persisted. She pulled off her shirt and threw it over near her bag before walking after it.

“Me and Dean might grab something.” Sam watched as she dug through her bag and pulled out her Irish Rugby shirt. “Why?”

“Why?” Alex repeated. “Because I’m hungry, you snail-fuck.”

“Hey hey hey.” Dean stepped out of the bathroom. “Watch your language. And don’t call Sam a . . . snail-fuck. What the hell is that, anyways?”

“I dunno.” Alex shrugged, a grin splitting her face. “You made it up. Your swearing’s always a thousand times better when you’re hammered.”

Dean studied her for several seconds. “I don’t remember that,” he finally informed her, tying his tie. “You coming?”

Alex looked over at Sam. “I didn’t think I was. But I will.” She hurriedly grabbed her bag and ran into the bathroom.

Five minutes later, she reemerged. “Alright. Let’s go.”

 

 **L** ess than half an hour later, Alex found herself outside a small suburban house. She got out of the Impala and slid her ID into her back pocket, eyes taking in her surroundings. Sam got out as well, and his hand unknowingly passed through one of her wings, which were loosely unfurled from her shoulders. She instinctively drew them in at the strange touch before she followed the two Winchesters up the driveway, straightening her blouse.

Dean rang the doorbell, and a few seconds later the door swung open. A woman stood there, holding a young boy, maybe three or four years old. “Yes?” Her gaze darted between the three hunters, confused and concerned. “Can I help you?”

In response, all three flashed their IDs. “Is Cal Garrigan at home?” Sam asked before she had time to say anything else. “We’ve got a few questions we’d like to ask him.”

“Yeah.” The woman smiled, stepping back. “Come on in.” She led them in through the foyer and into the kitchen, where she put her son down. “Um, honey, why don’t you go play in your room for a little while, oaky?”

The boy nodded and ran off, and the woman turned back to the mess of toys at the table. She hurried to clear them off. “Excuse the mess,” she apologized, setting the toys on the counter. “Please, sit.”

Sam and Dean sat down. Not seeing a near enough chair for her, Alex leaned against the wall. A growl made her look down to see a dog laying on a dog bed to her right, and she raised an eyebrow in response.

“Quiet Lucky,” the woman chastised before turning back to the three of them. “Um . . . anything I can get you guys?”

Dean shook his head. “No thank you. Um, so Cal if your boyfriend?”

“That’s right.”  
 “And where is he?” Dean looked around.

“Um, sleeping, I think.” The woman looked off to her left, down a hall, and Alex could only presume that it was a bedroom.

“You mind telling him up and at ‘em?” Dean asked. “He’s got some guests.”

The woman nodded, standing up, but just as she did, a man staggered into the room. He looked awful, and Alex could tell he was hungover. Her wing flicked in annoyance at the strong smell of alcohol and vomit.

“Cal . . .” The girlfriend was cut off when Lucky the dog growled, the barked. “Lucky, shh!” she admonished. The dog growled again, but was ignored. “These are Agents . . .”

“Holt and Wilson,” Dean finished. “Ms. Neff here is a detective with the FBI. Not quite an agent yet.” He looked back at Alex, who just shrugged. Dean turned back to Cal Garrigan. “You out late last night, Cal?”

Before answering, the man poured himself a large cup of coffee. “Just, uh, you know, a couple of beers with the friends.”

“How many’s a couple?”

“I don’t know,” the man defended. “Three, four tops.”

Sam decided to speak up. “If all you had was beer, how come you’re sweating vodka? And looks to me like you slept in those clothes. Am I right?” The cold professionalism in his voice made Alex glance his way. She still wasn’t use to this soulless business yet; he felt like a totally different person.

“I don’t know,” Cal stammered, taken aback by Sam’s harshness. “I-I guess.” He took a long drink of coffee. “Look, what’s this all about?”

“We’re investigating the death of Ronald Gariggan.”

“My brother?” Cal looked up at his girlfriend, who shrugged, knowing no more than he did.

“Sorry for your loss,” Dean said quickly.

“Yeah.” Cal turned back to Sam and Dean. “I thought it was some animal attack.”

“No love lost between the two of you, huh?” Sam asked, and Alex reached out, flicking him in the back of the head with her wing. The only sign the hunter felt it was when he reached up to run light fingers through his hair.

“Look, we had our differences, I guess. You love your brother, of course, but . . . Ron had a lot of problems. He was, uh, volatile.”

“Last time you were hear, you called the cops?”

Lucky growled, and Alex looked down at the dog. She knelt, taking his muzzle in her hand and lifting it up. The dog growled again, and Alex lowered her voice. “ _Drix_ ,” she murmured. The dog’s eyes dropped, and Alex let out a soft breath.

“—and he was yelling,” Cal was saying. “He shoved Mandy. So yeah, I called the cops. I don’t see what that has to with —”

“Your landlord was found dead last week,” Sam cut him off. “Were you aware of that?”

Again Lucky growled, and Alex placed a hand on his back. “Relax,” she repeated, this time in English. The dog looked up, and Alex looked into its brown eyes. She blinked. “You don’t feel right,” she murmured, stroking his head. She pushed her grace into his fur. “I don’t think this is how a dog’s suppose to feel, you know that?” Lucky sniffed the air, his head moving towards her, but Alex stubbornly held the dog back, blushing as she wondered if he smelled her heat.

“Alex.” A nudge to her thigh got her attention. “Let’s go.”

Alex did as Dean said, standing up. “Have a good day,” she told Cal and Mandy, before following Sam and Dean out the door.

“So Cal’s a prince,” Sam finally said as they neared the Impala.

“Yeah, don’t even know where he was last night,” Dean agreed.

“Bag him now?” Sam stopped by his door, eyes following Dean, who was still walking around the car.

“No. We make sure.”

“Really?”

“Before we hand him over to a lifetime of demon rape?” Dean unlocked the Impala with a huff. “Yeah, really.” He slid into the car, and Alex and Sam followed. The engine purred to life, and the car pulled out into the street.

“So . . . breakfast?”

Dean nodded. “We’ll come back tonight and keep a tag on him.”

 

 **T** he day passed without much incident. After breakfast they return to the motel, where Alex spent the entire morning staring up at the ceiling, listening to Dean watch _Dr. Sexy MD_. The afternoon was spent with Sam at the laundromat and grocery store, where they picked out dinner.

Around eight o’clock, Dean pulled her to her feet. “In the car. Time for a stake out.”

Alex literally _whined_. “Dean. Why are we watching him? He’s obviously not the alpha, or anything higher up for that matter.”

“He can turn outside of a full moon.” Dean threw her shoes at her, and Alex put them on. “He’s a little more than a commonplace werewolf, alright? If he’s what we think he is, we’ll bag him and give him to Crowley.” The hunter all but spat the name.

“ _Crowley’s_ not going to want him,” Alex shot back. “T-The dude’s a drunk! Even if he’s a werewolf, he’s too smashed to even remember it!”

“Just get your jacket.”

Alex grabbed a pillow off of the bed and stomped out to the Impala. She crawled into the backseat and pulled up a blanket off of the ground. Sam was already in the car, and he looked back at her. But he said nothing, and when Dean joined them, they drove off.

 

 **N** ine hours and six stops later, Alex found herself staring at the ceiling of the Impala, starting to drift to sleep. Dean killed the engine, and the two brothers turned their attentions out the windshield.

“He still going at it?” Alex asked tiredly.

Sam grunted in agreement. “He just doesn’t seem to know when to quit.”

“Three scuzzy bars, one scuzzy strip club, a chili-dog joint, seven or eight nightcaps . . .” Dean shook his head. “Now scotches in the library. I’m getting cirrhosis just watching this. Other than that, we have squat.”

“Let’s just see,” Sam insisted, and Dean grunted in acquiescence.

Alex just groaned, pulling the blanket tighter around her as a low burst of heat made her bones ache. “Wake me never,” she muttered to herself, drifting off into sleep.

 

 **W** hen she awoke, she found herself laying on the motel bed. “Dean?” Alex rolled over onto her back, looking around the room. “Sammy? Anyone home?” She sat up. The room was empty. The girl fell back onto the bed with a groan. Stupid heat. “Better than bleeding out once a month,” she finally grumbled, moving to stand up.

The door swung open, and Alex sat back down. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Dean tossed a white takeout bag onto the table. “You’re up.”

“That I am. Where were you? And how did I get here?” Alex patted the bed for emphasis.

“Sam carried you in.” Dean stripped off his tie, dropping it beside breakfast. “And we were at a crime scene.”

“Who’s dead? Someone relate to Cal?” Alex stood up in interest.

“Not quite.” Sam stepped into the motel. “The victim _was_ Cal.”

“Oh.” A frown darkened Alex’s face. “So I guess that rules him out, huh?”

“Yeah.” Dean opened the takeout bag and pulled out a styrofoam box. “Me and Sam are going to go talk to Mandy later. You in?”

“I dunno.” Alex sat down at the table, wings twitching at the warm smell of breakfast. “I’m feeling a little under the weather. Maybe I’ll just take a sick day.”

Dean reached out, placing a hand over her forehead. “Heat?” he guessed.

“Yup. Still that.” Alex stabbed a breakfast sausage with her fork, ignoring how her wings fell open at Dean’s touch. “It sucks.”

“You go into heat?” Sam tipped his head. “Really? What’s that like?”

“The last heat was hell. This one’s suppose to be better.” Alex took a small bite. “Imagine being unbearably horny for five days. That’s heat.”

“So you probably want us up and out of your way, huh?” Dean asked, a small smirk on his face.

Alex knew what he was implying. “It’s not going to help. Nothing I do’s going to help.” She dropped her fork, head in her hands. “I’m going to take a shower.”

Dean sat down as Alex stood up. “Cold works best,” he told her as she walked away.

Alex flipped him off.

 

 **W** hen she got out of the bathroom, the motel was empty. Worried, Alex hurried over to the table. Good. Those Winchesters has left her breakfast untouched. It was still warm too. She devoured it in quick bites before braiding her wet hair. Not seeing anything else to do, she sat down on the far bed, grabbed her journal, and flicked on the tv.

 

 **D** ean came back a little after twelve. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Alex turned off the cable and stood up. “How’d it go? Learn anything?” She glanced behind him, puzzled. “Where’s Sam?”

“He’s watching the chick.” Dean grabbed his jeans off of the floor, as well as a shirt before disappearing into the bathroom. “She’s the only connection we got now.”

Alex sat on the bed. “What about the dog?” she asked. “He . . . didn’t feel right,” she added when Dean snorted in amusement. “Maybe . . . maybe it’s like a, a weredog.”

Dean reemerged, fully changed. “Lunch?” he asked. “Listen. Let’s just wait and see if Sam finds anything. If he does, great. If not, well, we start looking again.” He grabbed the keys. “Now. Food? You still eat, right?”

“Uh . . . yeah. I had breakfast this morning.”

 

 **S** am didn’t even call until late that night. Alex looked up at the ringtone, and Dean startled slightly. He had been sitting at the table, staring at his phone, and Alex wasn’t exactly sure what he had been doing. “Hey.” He listened brief moment. “Well, I got bumpkis over here.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose in tired agitation. “Yeah?” Something Sam said made Dean immediately perk up. “What is it?” Pause. “Wow.” Dean got up and walked over to his bag. He pulled out John Winchester’s journal. “I haven’t heard of a skinwalker in years.”

“Skinwalker?” Alex repeated. She sat up, interested.

“I’m actually a little rusty on the profile,” Dean continued, nodding in confirmation to Alex. He turned his attention back to the phone. “So what happened? Did you catch him?” Pause, and Dean frowned. “We’ll meet you there.” He hung up. “Come on.”

“What happened?”

“You were right. Sort of. It’s not Mandy, it’s the dog. He’s a skinwalker.” Dean pulled on his jacket. “Sam chased him, but he got hit by a car. A couple picked him up and drove away.”

“Skinwalker, huh? Are they like werewolves?”

“They’re pretty damn close.” Dean shoved his gun into the waistband of his jeans. “They can change whenever they want, silver kills em, and they chow on hearts.” He also grabbed a pair of his older jeans.

“And we’re going . . . where?” Alex watched, confused.

“Local humane society. Come on, chop chop. Got a dog to catch.” He opened the door and turned up his collar against the wind.

 

 **T** en minutes later they were walking towards the kennels at the Buffalo Animal Shelter. Sam was waiting for them, a choke collar in his large hands. Dean was holding a pair of faded jeans. He nodded at his brother, and led the way in through the double doors.

They were immediately greeted by a wave of barks, whines, and growls. The Winchesters ignored it, studying each dog in the cage. They stopped, and Dean knelt down. “Hiya, Lucky.” He looked in at German Shepherd. “Bad dog.”

Lucky let out a low growl, sitting up. Alex tipped her head, watching the dog — er, skinwalker. She knew something had been off.

“First thing’s first.” Dean pulled out his gun, popping out the mag. “You see this?” He showed the dog. “It’s silver. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He snapped the mag back in, returning the gun to his pants. Alex glanced over at Sam; he was standing behind his brother, snapping a red rubber ball back and forth between his large hands. “Okay, time to go. Now, we can either do this the easy way,” Dean held up the pair of jeans, “or the hard way.” He held up the choke chain that Sam had handed him.

Sam let out a laugh. When Dean looked up at him he frowned. “What? Soul or not, that’s funny.”

Lucky let out a small growl, then started to shift. Alex raised her gaze to the ceiling as a naked man got to his feet. _Oh look. The ceiling had holes. How interesting._ She heard Dean open the door, to presumably give the man his clothes. When she heard footsteps step out, she deemed it safe to look back. The man was now wearing jeans, which thankfully fit. They were a little big, yes, but they would suffice.

“Alright, come on.” Dean led the man out of the pound and into the Impala.

Alex reluctantly slid in beside the man. “Hey.” She half-nodded to the man, taking the brief second to study him. Long, narrow face, dark eyes and darker hair. Thick stubble.

Sam’s voice brought her attention back to the car. “Stop flirting.”

“I’m an Angel of the Lord stuck in the backseat with a half naked dog-man.” Alex leaned forward towards Sam. “And you think I’m _flirting_?”

 

 **W** ithin the hour Alex was seated on the bed beside Dean. Sam was sitting in the desk’s chair, attention focused on the man who was now seated on a chair, fully clothed in Dean’s clothes, and bound with both rope and iron chain.

“Well, Lucky, you’ve got us stumped,” Sam finally said, leaning backwards. “Why’d you shack up with the family? Is it a kinky thing?” He leaned forward. “Do you like to play with your food? Roll over, Lucky,” he jeered. “Speak.”

Alex frowned in displeasure at his tone, and Lucky growled. “Go to hell.”

“Already did. Didn’t agree with me.” Sam adjusted his seat. “So, look . . .” He stood up and picked up the knife on the desk. “How about I take this silver knife, and start carving this dog until you behave.”

Lucky didn’t back down. “You do what you got to do,” he said, even though his voice shook.

Sam approached, and Alex stood, ready to stop him. However, Dean held up a hand. “Hang on, Sam.” Sam stopped, and Dean turned his attention to the skinwalker. “Listen, you don’t have to tell me why you’re with the family. I get it.”

Alex grunted in agreement, sitting back down. She pulled her wings in close.

Lucky, however, didn't seem as convinced. “Oh you do, do you?”

“You killed every threat that came near them. You care about them, in your own . . . whack-a-doodle kind of way. It’s obvious.” Dean leaned forward slightly. “What I want to know is, who was that guy you were kibitzing with? He a skinwalker too?”

A few seconds of silence. Lucky looked down before finally saying, “Look. I can’t say anything.”

“But if you _don’t_ , you’re going to put that girl and the little boy in danger. And sooner or later, all that crap’s going to come for you. Now look.” Dean stood up, voice growing angry. “We don’t give a rat’s ass about you. We want to help _them_. That’s our angle. That’s it.”

Lucky paused, looking between Sam and Dean. Then he gave in. “Yeah, that guy, he’s a . . . a whatever I am. And he’s not the only one.”

“How many are you?” Sam watched out of the corner of his eye as Alex got up and walked over to the fridge. She pulled a Mountain Dew out, popping the tab before taking a sip.

“About thirty.” Lucky tried to tip his head to see what Alex was doing. “We were all — we were kind of recruited.”

“Recruited?”

“Yeah. Me, I was living on the street. They found me. They told me one small bite, I’d be strong, I’d be fast.”

“Sniffing people’s butts?” Dean scoffed. “Yeah, that’s a real step up.” He walked past Lucky to lean against the table.

The man tipped his head to look at Dean, voice quiet and sullen. “Well, it was for me.”

Dean continued. “Where is this little Scooby gang of yours?”

“Everywhere. We’re out finding families, and once they take us in, we lay low.”

“ ‘Lay low?’ ” Dean repeated. “What the hell does that mean?”

“Well, we’re waiting for the word.”

 “What word?”

 “Once we get settled, we get the signal . . . and we turn on our families. We change them all in one night. Thirty becomes one hundred and fifty.”

Sam and Dean exchanged looks, shock and worry flashing through their eyes. “God, you’re a sleeper cell,” Dean said quietly.

“Yeah, well, that’s one way to say it.”

“So you’re waiting for the word from whom? Who organized you?”

“There’s a pack leader.”

“Your Alpha?” Sam guessed hopefully.

The skinwalker, however, seemed confused. “What’s an Alpha?”

“The, the first skinwalker, the strongest.” Sam sounded confused that Lucky didn’t know.

“Well, he’s plenty strong, but no, I, I don’t think so. I’m pretty sure there’s guys like him in other towns. We’re not the only pack out there.”

“Fantastic. Then you can help us stop him.” Dean walked back over to Sam.

“Oh, no, I can’t. No.”

“Yes, you can.”

“No, you guys don’t get it. No one can. These guys who turned me — they’re ruthless.”

Instead of answering, Sam suddenly let out a whistle. He held up a rubber ball, then tossed it across the room.

Alex huffed, and Dean shared in her agitation. “Sam, not helping.”

“Fetch this, dick,” Lucky growled as well.

Dean crouched down in front of the man, green eyes glittering. “What are you going to do to that family, really?” he asked quietly. “You gonna put your jaws around that little boy’s throat? Clamp down, listen to him cry for his mom? Cause I’m going to guess that these are the only people who in your pathetic life have ever showed you any kindness. So it’s either that . . . or you can help us stop it.”

Lucky stared at Dean for several seconds. “W-What can I do?” he finally asked, voice cracking slightly.

“You can get us close enough to kill him.”

Lucky looked between Sam and Dean. “You won’t be able to get close enough,” he insisted. “They’ll be able to smell you.”

“What about her?” Dean looked over at Alex. “She’s —”

“Not human,” Lucky finished. “I, I know. I can smell it.”

“Can she get close?”

“No.” The skinwalker shook his head firmly. “She stinks. L-Like a bitch in heat. I could smell before you even entered the shelter.”

“See?” Alex looked over at Dean. “Like I said. I reek.”

Lucky dipped his head, blushing. “I-It’s not bad,” he murmured embarrassedly. “Just strong.”

“Uh . . . thanks.” Alex awkwardly sat back down on the bed, not really sure what she was supposed to say to that.

“Can we untie me?”

Alex snapped her fingers, and the lock holding the chains together clicked open.

“Hey!” Sam protested.

Alex looked over at him, an eyebrow raised. “If he tries to run, I’ll kill him,” she promised, not missing how the skinwalker shifted uncomfortably. She calmly took another sip of her drink. “Got it, Fido?”

“Yeah.” Lucky swallowed nervously. “I-I can take you to where he is. Tomorrow afternoon. He’ll be there.”

Dean nodded. “Okay.” He walked back over to the door, sliding the deadbolt shut. “Until then, you stay here.”

“Yeah. O-Okay.”

 

 **I** t was the next day. Lucky had gone off after giving them the address of where the pack leader was to be. Sam was extremely skeptical, but both Dean and Alex agreed that they should give him the chance. Now, after a quick lunch, they were pulled off to the shoulder of a quiet road beneath a overpass. From there, they were going to walk over the hill to their destination. Alex was currently leaning against the side of the car, licking the last of her lunch off of her lips.

“So,” Sam finally asked, walking over to where Dean was digging through the trunk, “how are we suppose to get near something that can smell us from a hundred yards off?”

“We don’t.”

Alex tipped her head to watch. She heard him open something, and curiosity overtook her. He had opened up a case, and a grin split her face. “No way. When did we get a freaking sniper rifle?”

“Bobby. Before you started hunting again.”

“We’re taking the pack leader down?” Sam sounded confused.

“Yeah.” Dean looked up. “Got a better idea?”

“No, I . . .” Sam hesitated. “Crowley’s not going to be too happy about this.”

“Who gives a damn?” Alex snorted.

Dean nodded in agreement, closing the case and latching it. “We let that thing live one second, and it sends out it’s psychic dog signal, and phew!” He threw his hands up in emphasis.

“On the other hand,” Sam countered, “it could lead us to the Alpha. And then Crowley can give me my soul back.”

“Are you kidding?” Dean straightened up. “One hundred and fifty people turned into monsters. That what you want?”

“No. Of course not I . . . I’m just asking.”

“Ah, you know what? That’s it.” Dean shook his head, looking away.

“What?”

“You’re saying you’re ‘just folks,’ yeah? That, that you like baseball and apple pie and whatever. But the truth is? I don’t know who you are, cause you’re not Sam.”

“Dean, come on.”

Dean kept going. “I mean, it’s your gigantor body and — and maybe your brain, but it’s not you. So just . . . stop pretending. Do us all a favor.” Without another word, he grabbed the rifle case and walked away.

Sam watched him go before looking down at Alex. The young angel let out a small shrug before hurrying after Dean. She glanced back for only a second to see Sam grab the duffle and close the trunk before going after them.

 

 **T** hey walked down the dusty path. Thanks to Sam’s long legs, it wasn’t long before he caught up to them, while at the same time Alex was falling behind. They reached a large warehouse less than twenty minutes later, and Dean let the way up the ladder and onto the roof.

He started to set up the rifle while Alex scouted out the place below. A black pick up was parked next to the adjacent building, and a man paced nervously in a wide circle. Alex easily recognized him as Lucky. The gravel area gave way to a very large puddle that partially separated the building they were on from the skinwalker.

“He looks nervous, right?” Alex looked behind her to see Sam leaning against the large rusted air conditioner, loading his mag with silver bullets.

Dean had the sniper balanced on top of the metal box, looking through the scope. “Wouldn’t you be?”

“I’d double cross us,” the younger Winchester said casually. “I mean, he has to realize that it’s his best bet, if he wants to keep breathing.” He pushed another bullet into the magazine.

“Nah. He’ll go through with it.”

“You mean cause he loves family?”

“Yup.”

Sam grunted. “I’d double cross us.”

Alex watched Dean’s reaction out of the corner of her eye. He had moved his head away from the scope slightly, and his face said he was one hundred percent done with where this was going. “Thanks Dexter,” Dean replied dryly. “That’s reassuring.”

“Just making conversation.”

Alex opened her mouth to reply, but shut her mouth at the sound of an approaching vehicle. She moved behind the metal structure, peering over it.

“Here we go.” Dean alerted his brother. Sam jumped up beside him.

A black SUV pulled up beside Lucky, and three skinwalkers got out. At the same time, the metal garage door swung open, and two more men stepped into view. Lucky turned to face them, and Alex was worried he was caught.

“The big guy, the driver — that’s the guy Lucky met in the park.”

“And there’s el Jefe.” Alex followed Dean’s gaze to a short bald man, hidden by a taller, hispanic man.

“Take him out.”

“It’s not clean,” Dean hissed back. “We got one shot at this. Literally.”

Alex turned her attention to the scene in front of her. She watched as one of the skinwalkers opened the back door to the SUV, and a chill ran up her spine as Mandy got out, clutching her son close to her.

“Take the shot,” Sam insisted.

“I’m trying! She’s in the way.”

“Take it anyways!”

Dean growled in frustration, and Alex looked up at Sam, shocked. He was staring at his brother. She turned back to see the skinwalkers disappear inside, and the door rolled closed. She harshly let out the breath she didn’t know she had been holding. “Great!” She looked up at the Winchesters.

“So, plan B?”

“We got one?” Dean sounded fully disappointed.

“We have to to go in after them,” Alex insisted. Seeing their faces, she said, “Fine! I’ll go in. They, they can’t hurt me, right? And I have this.” She reached up and pulled out the angel blade she had stowed on her back. “There’s no way they can hurt me.”

“Except they can kill her and the boy,” Dean snapped back. “No. We’re going with you.”

“Okay.” Alex nodded, twirling her blade in her hand. “Let’s go.”

 

 **A** lex watched Sam and Dean disappear into the warehouse. She was suppose to wait two minutes for them to get into place before following; all three had agreed that since her heat made her smell a hundred times stronger, it was better to wait until the last minute to enter. She checked her watch, watching the seconds tick away before reaching for her weapon. She had waited long enough.

Alex slid through the cracked door, wings pinned against her in anticipation. She walked down the winding hall until she found Sam Winchester. He was standing behind a doorway covered with plastic strips, gun out. She nodded her head to him, and he held out a hand, telling her to wait. She paused, listening. She heard voices, and then, “What is that?”

Sam exploded out of the doorway, firing off two shots. Alex followed; in five steps she met a skinwalker, blade sinking deep into its chest. It screamed, flashing white, and collapsed. Alex ducked a blow, pulling her weapon free. She twirled around, her wings instinctively flaring out to balance her. She raised her right arm, blocking a jab. The skinwalker collapsed, a hole in it’s head. Alex frowned. “That one was mine!” She yelled up at Dean, who her grace had pinpointed as high above her.

If there was an answer, she didn’t hear it. A skinwalker charged, but Alex easily sidestepped, blade sliding through the monster’s throat. She looked around. There were no more skinwalkers, but there was no Mandy, Lucky or Sam either. She stretched out her grace at the exact same moment that she heard a gunshot. Her feet carried her towards the sound before a hand grabbed the back of her jacket, dragging her backwards. She lashed out, but a hand caught her wrist.

Alex immediately went lax. “I almost _killed_ you,” she hissed. A resounding gunshot signaled the death of another walker.

“Glad you didn’t.” Sam pulled her behind a stack of pipes. “Mandy’s locked in that room.” He motioned to the door in front of them. “Lucky and some other skinwalker disappeared.”

Alex pushed out her grace, eyes closing to focus. She felt four humans, and — there. “Come on.” Alex stood up, moving towards the far end of the building. They made it twenty feet before Alex spun around, blade thrusting outwards. It caught the leaping Doberman right in the heart, and it fell to the ground, dead. Alex watched as it morphed into a naked man, and she turned away, wiping her blade off on her sleeve.

There was another gunshot, this one not from the rifle, but from a handgun. Nearby. Alex looked up at Sam, who hurried towards the sound. They heard the crack of the sniper rifle, and Alex glanced to her left to see Lucky laying on the ground, and she distinctly heard a whimper. Sam noticed the dog too, and hurried around the barrels, gun raised.

Alex followed, then froze. Lucky was gone; now the only thing that remained was a pool of blood. Alex lowered her weapon. Two bodies lay by her feet. “Dean!”

“What?”

“Still alive,” Alex confirmed. She sheathed her blade, scanning the building. She watched Sam help Mandy and her son out of the room, guiding them away. She didn’t move from where she stood, using all of her energy to make sure the premises were safe. Finally her grace failed, and she let it go with a shaky sigh.

 

 **T** hey dropped Mandy and her son off at their house before packing at the motel and driving. Around four, they stopped by a large river. Sam and Dean got dinner from the Beef Barn across the street, while Alex grabbed a warm picnic table in the sun. She lay on top of it, claiming it, wings spread outwards to absorb the sun’s warmth. Her feathers ruffled upwards, and she arched her spine in bliss.

“Alright, kitty. Get down.”

Alex snapped open her eyes at Dean’s voice. She slithered off of the table, a blush spreading across her face. “Sorry,” she mumbled, eyes flickering off to the left where a woman and her dog were jogging by. She watched them pass.

Dean just seemed amused. “Here. Eat up.”

Alex unwrapped her burger, still embarrassed. “Thanks.”

“I’ll never look at a dog the same,” Dean said. “Makes you wonder.”

“Ooh, really makes you wonder,” Alex sang under her breath. Dean ginned, gently kicking her under the table to show his approval.

“What?”

“Zep.”

 “No, I know that.” Sam tried again. “Makes you wonder about what?”

“How many packs are out there,” the older Winchester explained. “What if they’re all just waiting for the signal, you know?” He took a sip of his drink.

“So . . .” Sam hesitated. “I’ve been thinking. You were right.”

“About?”

“I’m not your brother. I’m not Sam.”

“Okay.”

“Um, all that ‘blah blah blah’ about being the old me? Crap. Like, Lisa and Ben, right? I’ve been acting like I care about them. But I don’t. I couldn’t care less.”

Alex’s wings flared out in offense, and Dean frowned. “Is that suppose to make me feel better?”

“You wanted the real me. This is it. I don’t care about them. I don’t even really care about you guys. Except that . . . I need your help. You’re clearly not going to stick around much longer until I give it to you straight, so . . .” Sam took a deep breath. “I’ve done a lot worse than you know. I’ve killed innocent people in the line of duty. But I’m pretty sure it’s something the old me never could’ve done. And maybe I should feel guilty. But I don’t.”

“Sam, get to the punchline.”

“I don’t know if how I am is better or worse. It’s different. You get the job done, and nothing really hurts. That’s not the worst thing. But I was thinking . . . I was that other Sam for a long time, and it was kind of harder. But there are also things about it I remember that I . . .” Sam let out a quiet breath. “Let’s just say I think I should go back to being him.”

Dean was silent for a long time. “That’s very interesting. It’s a step.”

“So?” Sam looked at his brother, not sure what he meant.

Once again, Dean hesitated before responding. “So we do what we got to do. And we get my brother back.”

Sam nodded. The table fell silent as the two Winchesters began to eat.

After a few minutes of silence, Alex shifted uncomfortably. “I’m tired of burgers,” she finally said, wanting to break the tension. “Can we have pizza tonight?”

Dean grunted out a “Sure.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just so you know, I had a lot of fun writing the next chapter. Should be pretty good . . .


	6. Clap Your Hands if You Believe

**I** t was after lunch, and Alex spread back out on the picnic table again, eyes closed. She heard the Winchester’s approach, and she crossed her arms across her chest and drew her legs up, protecting her abdomen. She wouldn’t put it past Dean to poke her in the stomach, and his jabs could hurt. She let out a snort. Hunters didn’t know how to be gentle. 

However, her stomach remained untouched. Sam pushed her legs father out of the way, and Alex heard a soft clunk as he set his laptop down. She let out a wordless question, and he explained. “Looking for cases.” 

“Coolio.” Alex reached up to scratch her head, and let out a cry as two fingers were poked beneath her ribs. “Dean!” 

Dean grunted in amusement. “Comfy?” 

“Quite.” Alex returned her arms to across her chest. “Are we looking for any type of case in particular?” she asked Sam. “Like, something for Crowley?” 

“Maybe.” Sam’s voice was distant, telling Alex he was barely paying her any attention. 

Alex fell silent. 

 

 **“G** ot something.” Sam’s voice made Alex open her eyes. “I think.”

“You think?” Alex felt the table shift as Dean moved. “What does that mean?”

“Uh, Elwood, Indiana. Four people have gone missing in the past month.”

“And? Sounds like our kind of thing.”

“Except there’s also been reports of bright lights in the sky and crop circles.” Alex heard the sound of Sam spinning his laptop around. “Rumors say it’s aliens.”

“Aliens?” Dean let out a scoffing noise. “Aliens don’t exist.”

“I know.” 

Alex heard Dean stand up. “Well, let’s go.”

“Wait. Seriously?” 

“Well, something’s taking those people.” Alex felt hands on her shoulders, and suddenly she was hauled to her feet. “Up and at ‘em, kitten.” 

“You’re not going to let me live this down.”

“Nope.” Dean let go of her. “Come on. Indiana’s about five hours out. We can get there by dinner and ask around a bit before we find a place to crash.”

Alex nodded. She followed the Winchesters into the Impala, and they drove away. 

 

**September 26th, 2011**

**Elwood, Indiana**

**A** lex followed Sam and Dean down the street, hands buried in her pockets. They had been walking around town for the past hour, and Alex was officially bored. Everyone they had talked to said the same thing; aliens. Patrick was the first one to go missing; they had talked to his girlfriend, who had been the last to see him. She said there had been a bright light, and Patrick had just vanished. Every other account after that had been the exact same.

They passed a bald old man, and Alex gave him a wide berth. He had been one of the first people they had talked to. “ _Aliens_ ,” he had said. “ _I have personally recorded dozens of eyewitness accounts, strange lights in the sky, mysterious presences attempting contact._ ” Alex had snorted in disbelief. “ _We are right in the middle of what we in the field like to call a ‘UFO flap,’_ ” the man had insisted, “ _and I am as happy as a pig in shoes._ ” 

“Of course it’s not UFOs.” A woman’s confident voice brought Alex back to reality. Sam and Dean were stopped in front of a plump, white haired woman. “It’s fairies.” 

_Fairies?_ Alex stared at her, dumbfounded. 

“Fairies,” Dean repeated. “Okay. Well, thank you for your input.” He turned to go, and Alex saw him roll his eyes up into his head.

Sam, however, didn’t leave. “What?” he asked scathingly. “Flying saucers not insane for you?”

The woman blinked in alarm and confusion. “What newspaper did you say you were from?”

“Okay. If you want to add glitter to the glue you’re sniffing, that’s fine, but don’t dump your whackadoo all over us. We’d rather not step in it.” 

“Sam!” Alex’s eyes flashed at his cold tone. 

“Okay, we’re done here.” Dean grabbed his brother by the arm and hauled him backwards.

Sam didn’t budge. “The only thing you’re missing is a couple dozen cats, sister.” 

“It’s a blood sugar thing,” Dean lied. “My apologizes.” He tugged harder, and Sam finally turned away. Dean led him down the street. 

“What?” Sam sounded indignant. 

“What? You got to ask?” Staring into his brother’s face, he sighed. “Of course you got to ask.”

“Maybe it is a blood sugar thing,” Alex suggested quietly. “He always gets a little short when he’s hypoglycemic.” 

“Look, I’m sorry, but this is all a big joke, right?” Sam looked over his shoulder towards where the woman had been. “We’re not actually taking this UFO crap seriously?”

“No, man. ET is made of rubber. Everyone knows it.” Dean led them back to the car. “But there are _four_ legitimate vanishings in this town. Something’s going on. And Sam? It’s not the ladies fault that she took the brown acid.”

“Yeah, it kind of is.” Alex leaned against the Impala as Dean unlocked it. 

“So?” Sam asked at the same time.

“Empathy, man. Empathy! I mean, the old Sam would have given her some, some wussified, dew-eyed crap.”

“Old Sam had a soul — was a soul. Whatever.” They crossed the street.

“Right. Yes, and, and, but you weren’t — aren’t —” Dean stopped, not sure what he was saying. “Whatever.” 

“Right.” 

“Right. You don’t care.” 

“Well —”

“You have to care!” 

“About what, exactly?” 

“About everything, man! About being human, at least.”

“Look Dean. You obviously care. A lot. And that’s great. But I can’t care about — I can’t care about it, you know? What do you want me to do, fake it?” 

“Exactly. Fake it. Fake it till you make it.” 

“What happened to me being all honest?”

“Hey, you want to be a real boy, Pinocchio, you gotta act the part.”Dean reached for the Impala’s door, then paused, looking over at Sam.

“I was faking it, Dean!” Sam seemed genuinely distressed. “Ever since we got back together, I was picking every fucking word! It’s exhausting!” 

“Okay. Alright.” Dean gave in. “But until you get back on the soul train, I’ll be your conscience, okay?” 

“So you’re saying you’ll be my . . . Jiminy Cricket.” Sam looked over at Alex. 

“Shut up. But yes, you freaking puppet.” Dean opened the car door. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.” He got into the car, and Alex and Sam followed. 

Alex slid the leftover pizza farther over, making room for her to sit. “I can be your conscience too,” she insisted, leaning between the two Winchesters. She chuckled at her next thought. “The angel on your shoulder, per say.”

Sam chuckled, but Dean frowned. “I don’t think you’re the best person to go to for moral support—”

“Says the man who’s killed more monsters than he can count,” Alex countered. “The man who went to hell for forty years and started the apocalypse. The man who _threw me out_ when Crowley was after me—”

“Okay okay okay.” Dean cut her off. “I get it, I get it.” He started the car, and drove off. 

“Motel?” Alex hoped.

“One more stop. Patrick’s dad. Owns a watchmaking shop just a mile off.”

Alex groaned, falling back against the seat. “But I want to take a nap,” she whined. 

“I thought angels weren’t suppose to sleep,” Dean huffed. “But now it’s like the only thing you do.” 

“I dunno.” Alex shrugged. “Might be part of the transition thing. Like — like that time where whenever I tried to move the left part of my body, my right side moved?”

“Or that time where you sat at the table for an hour eating a banana and talking in French.” Dean turned down a wide street.

Alex frowned. “I still don’t remember that . . .”

“Yeah, well, that’s probably for the best.” 

“What?” Sam looked at his brother, then back at Dean.

“Some, uh, human to angel thing,” Dean explained. “Apparently it, uh, what was it? Rewired your brain or some shit like that?” 

“Yeah. There was this one month where everything was really weird when I was with Ben and Lisa. When I was with B, there was a week where I’d sign everything I was saying. I don’t even know sign language. I mean, apart from the hunting stuff.” 

Dean grunted in agreement, then pulled the Impala off to the side beside a brick building. _Brennan’s Watchworks_ , the sign read. All three got out, and Alex adjusted the gun in the back of her jeans before following the Winchesters into the shop. She immediately shivered. The room was extremely cold, colder than outside, and she wished she had a thicker jacket. 

“Mr. Brennan?” 

An old man turned at the sound of Dean’s voice . “Mmm?”

“We’re with the Mirror,” Sam explained, gesturing with his small notepad. He and Dean moved down the stairs into the main work area, but Alex didn’t follow. “We would like to ask you —”

“What?” Mr. Brennan looked up worriedly. “Is this about Patrick? Patrick’s gone.” He turned back to is work. Alex shifted uncomfortably, looking around. She didn’t like it in here. 

Dean didn’t answer for a second, rather taken aback by the coldness in the father’s voice. “Missing. Right. Yes, that’s what we want to talk to you about.” 

“Now, your son was the first to disappear,” Sam began. 

“First to be taken,” Mr. Brennan insisted. 

“Taken,” Sam repeated, glancing at Dean. 

“Get out!” the man suddenly insisted. “Out!” He walked up the stairs, and Alex jumped out of the way, back hitting the wall.

Dean followed, shooting Alex a strange glanced on the way by. “Mr. Brennan, who do you believe took your son?” Alex followed. She stopped a few feet from the Winchesters, staring at a pile of equipment. Creepy.

“You people can’t help me,” the old man insisted. “My boy is never coming back.” 

“You sound awfully sure.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“Like you know something you’re not talking about,” Sam finished mouth twisting into a cold frown. 

“Okay, alright.” Dean stopped his brother, a hand on his arm to calm him down.

“You know what they say.” Mr. Brennan moved closer to Sam, looking up into the hunter’s eyes. “Seventy two hours. After that, the odds of finding a missing person drop to nothing, right?” 

“Well, every case is different.” 

Mr. Brennan walked away. He leaned against the table, shaking his head. “It’s been weeks,” the old man said flatly. 

“Alright.” It was clear that they were getting nowhere fast. Dean held out a card with his number. “Listen. Call us if anything comes to mind.” 

Alex led the way out, letting out a happy sigh to be back in the warm air. She took a deep breath, the fresh air amazing after the stuffy shop. She felt a hand cuff her on the back of her head, and she frowned up at Dean. “What was that for?” 

“Thanks for the help back there.” 

“What the hell was I suppose to do?” Alex leaned against the car, watching Dean walk around. 

“You looked like a deer in headlights,” Sam agreed.

“The place was freezing, and cluttered, and the air was awful!” Alex narrowed her eyes in confusion. “What?” 

Dean and Sam exchanged looks. “It didn’t seem cold to me,” Sam finally said. 

“I-It was.” Alex looked down at her arms. “See? Goosebumps!” She dramatically splayed her arm across the roof so Dean could see. 

“I thought it was pretty warm,” Dean admitted. “You’re brain fritzing out again?” 

Alex frowned. “I don’t think so. I mean, it’s got pretty precise timing. Started the minute I walked in, ended the second I walked out.” 

“Huh.” Dean leaned against the Impala. “Well, I think he’s hiding something.” He looked over at Sam. “Why don’t the two of you stay and watch Watchmaker and see what happens when the sun goes down, and I’ll go check out the crop circles.” Seeing Sam’s displeasure, he added, “And do _not_ engage with, maim, or in any way kill Brennan. In fact, I don’t want you making any judgement calls whatsoever. If anything happens, Alex calls the shot. Or call me.” He moved to get in the car. 

Sam finally spoke. “You know, Jiminy, I was on my own for a whole year. I did fine without you.”

“I don’t want to know your definition of fine.” 

“At least take the angel. I can handle it on my own.”

“Nope. Alex’s the angel on your shoulder. She's staying right where she is.” Dean tossed the Impala’s keys to Sam and walked off down the street.

Alex watched him walk past the Impala. She turned to Sam. “Well, now what?” 

 

 **T** wo hours later, Alex found herself seated in the local pub, staring at Sam Winchester. He took a sip of his beer, eyes focused on Mr. Brennan, who was sitting at the bar, downing yet another glass of scotch. Alex tipped her head, stare intensifying. Souled Sam would be squirming by now. He hated when she just stared at him. 

Finally Sam took a sip of his beer and turned to her. “I’m going to go talk to him.”

“What?” Alex leaned forward, eyes narrowed. “Like hell you are.” 

“Nothing’s going on here.” Sam pulled out his phone. “I’m calling Dean.”

“Tell him to go fuck a cactus.” Alex pulled Sam’s beer close and took a sip. “Next time, he gets to babysit.” 

Sam huffed in amusement before dialing Dean’s number. Then he put the phone down on the table so both Alex and he could hear. Dean answered with a sigh. “What?” 

“The only thing this guy’s up to is alcoholism,” Sam said, glancing over at the watchmaker. 

“Good.” 

“You know, maybe I should try and talk with him. I mean, you’re the one who said he might be hiding something.”

Suddenly Dean’s voice changed. “Shh. Shh!” 

“What? You see something?” Sam leaned in over the phone. “Dean, what’s up?” 

“Hang on a second.” There was a faint crunching as Dean started walking. Then, “Holy fuck. UFO! UFO!” 

Sam immediately snatched up the phone, turning down the volume. “Whoa! Dude, stop yelling. You’re breaking up. I didn’t catch that last part.” 

Alex leaned closer, ignoring the strange looks they got. “UFO?” she repeated. “Where?” 

“Close encounter! Close encounter!” Dean was breathing heavy, and Alex knew he was running. 

“Close encounter?” Sam repeated. “What kind? First, second?” 

Alex kicked him under the table. 

“They’re after me!” Dean yelled. 

“Third kind already?” Sam smirked. “You better run, man. I think the fourth kind is a butt thing.” Alex kicked him harder. 

Dean didn’t shared in his brother’s amusement either. “Empathy, man! Empathy!” 

“They still after you?”

“Come on!” 

Alex heard the phone hit the ground, and she leaned forward, wings ruffling in concern. “Dean? Dean!” 

“Dean, are you there?” Sam blinked. “What happened? Dean?” 

Alex hung up. “Come on.” She got up, urging Sam to do the same. “He could be hurt, Sam. _Come on_.” 

Sam stood up, and they quickly made their way out of the bar. Alex looked up and down the street before hurrying over to the Impala. 

When he took a few seconds to follow, Alex turn to look at him. “Come on, Sam! Hurry up!” 

“Why don’t you just meet me there?” 

Alex opened her mouth to snap, but closed it again.

“You still can’t fly,” Sam said flatly. He crossed the street and unlocked the door.

Alex slid into the passenger seat. “Shut it, Scully. Just . . . let’s go.” 

The engine growled as it came to life. “I’m not Scully,” Sam said as he pulled out into the street.

“Yeah you are.” Alex stuck an arm out the open window, watching the town fly by as Sam accelerated. “Dean’s Mulder.”

“And that makes you . . ?”

“Kolchak,” Alex said confidently. 

“What?” Sam let out a huff of disapproval. “He’s not even from the same show.” 

“I’m not even from the same universe,” Alex quipped back. 

Sam chuckled, and Alex leaned back against the seat. “Okay, that one’s pretty good.” Sam turned onto a dirk road, and Alex fell silent. 

 

 **F** ifteen minutes later, Alex was pushing her way through the cornstalks. She and Sam had split up, and he was now beyond the immediate reach of her grace. She stumbled onto a path, and followed it. 

The faint sound of music reached her ears, and Alex broke into a run. “Dean? Dean!” She turned down a path and hit a solid object, falling backwards. She let out a small cry, her back hitting the packed earth. 

“Alex?” Sam looked down at her. “What happened?” A smirk crossed his lips. “Freaked out? You were alone for like, ten minutes.”

“I thought I heard Dean’s phone,” Alex defended. 

“Yeah.” Something hard landed on her chest, and Alex picked it up to see Dean’s phone. “Found it in the middle of, get this, a crop circle.” Instead of helping her up, Sam continued to stare down at her. “Whatever it is, it got Dean.” 

Alex pulled herself to her feet, rubbing her sore head. “Yeah. Okay. Now what?” 

“Come on.” Sam suddenly took off sprinting down the path. Alex followed as quickly as she could, but quickly fell behind. She finally reached the car to see Sam starting the engine, and barely made it into the front seat. 

 

 **A** lex followed Sam into the circle of trailers. She looked around, slightly unnerved by the large amount of ET there was. “This is fucking weird,” she muttered, jumping as a man dressed as a green alien walked by. She flared her wings, trying to appear bigger and stronger against the so-thought threat. It, of course, went unnoticed. “What exactly are we looking for?” 

“Aliens.” Sam glanced over at a green blow-up martian. “God, this place reeks of failure.” 

Alex held back a low chuckle, but couldn’t help but sniff the air. “Beer and losers,” she concurred. “Let’s just find what we need and get out.” She stepped closer to Sam as a man walked by, obviously checking her out, and her wings flared. “They’re all freaks.” She shivered, looking up at Sam. “I’m cold,” she told him, eyeing his thick jacket. 

“So?” 

“So . . . can I have your coat?” Alex pulled her best puppy eyes, looking up at the soulless hunter.

Sam just snorted. “Get your own coat.” 

“Sam! Empathy! When a girl’s cold, you’re suppose to give her your damn coat.” 

“Only if I like that said girl.” Sam scanned the crowd, only giving her half of his attention. 

“Oh please. You love me.”

“You let Dean go to hell.” 

Alex sighed, rolling her eyes. “I thought we were over this.” 

“I forgave you. When I had a soul.” Sam finally looked down at her. “Things are different now.” He started walking off. “Besides. You’re annoying.” 

Alex followed with a disgruntled huff. The air grew colder with each passing second, and she rolled the sleeves of her sweatshirt down, shoving her fists into her pockets.

Sam led her over to a card table where a was man had laid out several different stacks of paper. He looked upas Sam approached. Alex recognized him as Wayne, the guy they had talked to earlier that evening.

“So, they’re real,” Sam began. “UFOs.”

Wayne nodded. “Like I said before, son, the truth is out there.” 

“Okay, you’re the expert. How do I get them?” 

“Come again?” 

“You hunt ETs, right? I need to know how to get them.” Sam motioned to the stack in front of them. 

“You and me both.” The old man rifled through the stack and handed two packets to Sam and Alex. Alex flipped through it. Testimony after testimony of lights in the sky, crop circles . . .

“This is it?” Sam raised an eyebrow, looking down at Wayne skeptically. 

“Well, I’d say that thirty years of eyewitness accounts speak from themselves as incontrovertible proof —”

“Yeah, right.” Sam cut him off. “My brother was abducted so I’m pretty good on the whole proof part.” Sam dropped the packet back down on the table.

“Your brother was abducted?” A young woman walked up to Sam, big brown eyes wide. 

“Yeah.” Sam barely spared her a glance before turning turning back to Wayne. 

“Oh my God.” 

“It’s fine,” Sam promised. “I mean, I’ve had time to adjust.” 

“Did it happen when you were kids?” 

Sam turned to look down at her, confusion on his face. “No, like half an hour ago.” He turned back to Wayne. 

Alex looked up at the woman. “He’ll be fine,” she promised the woman. “Don’t worry about it.” 

“So, you’ve been hunting UFOs for over three decades and you basically have no concrete data and zero workable leads,” Sam was saying, voice scathing. 

“Well, I —”

“Have you ever considered the possibility that you suck at hunting UFOs?” 

Alex kicked Sam in the shin. He barely flinched. “Dude! Empathy!”

Sam shoved her away, probably harder than he intended to, leaving the angel to stumble back with a disgusted huff. 

The woman tapped Sam on the shoulder. “I’d like to help, if I can,” she said quietly. 

Sam smiled, and Alex didn’t miss how his gaze flitted up and down the young woman. “Uh, sure. That’d be great.” He looked at Alex. “Maybe we could start at my place.” 

Alex snorted. “So you want me to _walk_ back to the motel?” 

“Walk?” The woman looked up at Sam with big eyes. “Why would she walk?” 

Alex shook her head at the woman’s obvious innocence. “Never mind.” If she didn’t get Sam’s endgame, she wasn’t going to explain it.

 

 **I** t wasn’t much longer till Sam made his move. Alex quickly left, grabbing a pillow on the way out, knowing it would be a long night. As the door slammed behind her, she dug the Impala’s keys out of her pocket. With a small sigh, she made her way over to the car.

 

 **T** hat noise was familiar. Alex opened her eyes from where she was curled up on the bench, wings pulled down around her as a blanket. She flicked her grace out, and felt a human soul. A very familiar human soul. 

Alex jumped out of the car, wings flared up in excitement. “Dean?” She peered through the darkness, making out the face of the hunter. With a huge smile, she rushed forward, pulling him into a hug. Dean sort of hugged back, but was obviously tired. Alex looked up. “Oh my God! What happened?” 

“I, uh, I don’t know,” Dean said quietly. He glanced towards the motel. “Come on.” 

Alex watched him go. “I, uh, I wouldn’t go in there!” she yelled after him. Dean either didn’t hear or didn’t listen, because he unlocked the motel door and stepped inside. Alex ran after him, admittedly slightly interested in what was going to go down. 

“What the hell?” she heard Dean ask, voice sharp. She slid to a stop inside the motel, immediately turning her attention to Dean Winchester’s expressions, completely ignoring the naked couple in bed. 

“Oh, that’s Dean!” she heard the small woman exclaim. “Sam, they brought your brother back!” 

Alex watched Dean look between his brother and the woman, a frown across his face. 

“Maybe you should go,” she heard Sam tell the woman.

Alex heard the bed creak, and the woman — Alex was pretty sure her name was something Sparrow — got up and grabbed her clothes, which were near Alex’s feet. The angel took a step back to give her space. 

She quickly got dressed, Dean’s only agreement coming in the form of a grunt. She heard Sam follow, getting dressed. After a few seconds, Alex deemed it safe enough to look up. Sam had pulled on his boxers, and was in the process of grabbing his jeans; Sparrow was pretty much dressed. She grabbed her shoes and purse off of the ground, before looking up. Dean had opened the door, and was now leaning against it, waiting for her to leave. “Okay, it’s all right, Sam,” she said quickly as she finished gathering her things. “I totally understand that you need time as a family. But it’s just —” She looked up at Dean. “What were they like?” 

“They were grabby, incandescent douchebags,” Dean said curtly. “Good night.” 

“Too soon . . ?” Sparrow guessed. The look Dean gave her had her mumbling out, “Okay,” and leaving the motel. Dean closed the door after her, leaning against the wood. 

“You’re upset,” Sam guessed. 

Dean didn’t respond for several seconds, and Alex shifted nervously. Finally, he turned around. “I was abducted.” Dean approached, gesturing to himself, voice on the edge of disbelief. “And you were banging Patchuli.” 

“I didn’t think she smelled that bad,” Sam said slowly. 

“I was abducted by aliens!” 

“We were looking into it.”

“Looking into it?” Dean repeated angrily. “I was gone for, like, an hour!”

“An hour—”

“And most of that was spent walking back to town!” 

“Dean, I think your watch is off.” Sam pulled out his phone. “You’ve been gone all night.”

“What are you talking about? No I haven’t.” Dean looked at his watch, then at Sam’s phone in disbelief. “Four a.m?”  
 “Yeah. UFO time slip,” Sam realized as his brother sat down on the other bed beside him. “That actually falls in line with a lot of abduction stories.” Sam hurried over to the kitchen. 

“Falls in line . . .”

Dean just shook his head. “ _Nothing_ falls in line,” he insisted, sitting down on the corner of the bed.

Sam handed him a glass of whiskey. “Here. Drink.”

“Thank you.” Dean downed it. 

“We didn’t just give up on you,” Alex added. “We actually talked to those freaks outside town for a while.”

“Yeah.” Sam poured him another glass. “Now. Come on. Talk to me. What happened?” He sat down on the corner of the other bed, staring at his brother. Alex shifted towards them slightly.

“Well, uh,” Dean started, “there was this . . . God help me, Sam, there was this bright white light.” He tried to make it into a joke, but failed. 

“It’s okay.” Sam reached out, a hand on his brother’s leg. “Safe room.” He pulled back when Dean looked at him. 

“Start from the beginning,” Alex prompted. She leaned against the dresser, studying Dean. 

Dean took another long drink. “Look. I was in the cornfield. And then there was this light, you know? And suddenly, I was, uh, I was in a different place. And there were these beings, and they were too bright to look at, but I could feel them pulling me towards this sort of table —”

“Probing table,” Sam said. 

Dean flinched. “God! Don’t say that out loud.” 

“Right, uh, so what did you do?” 

“I went crazy.” Dean kept his gaze low, staring at his glass. “I, I started hacking and slashing and firing.” He let out a huff of laughter. “They actually seemed surprised. I don’t think anybody’s ever done that before.” Dean stood up and walked over to the table. “I had a close encounter, Sam, and _I won_.” 

Sam looked down at his hands then up at his brother. “You should take a shower,” he finally said. 

“I should take a shower,” Dean repeated, agreeing. “I’m gonna, I’m gonna take a shower.” He set his glass down and walked off into the bathroom. 

Alex looked over at Sam, eyebrows raised. “Well,” she finally said. “That happened.” 

“Yeah.” 

 

 **D** ean slept well into the morning. Alex woke around eight to find Sam sitting over at the table, scrolling through something on his laptop. She yawned, and he grunted out a greeting. 

Alex got up, careful not to wake the sleeping hunter beside her, and quietly walked over to Sam. “How are you doing?” 

Sam snorted. “I’m fine,” he promised. “Seriously.”

“Okay.” Alex sat down beside him and took a small sip of the whiskey in his half-empty glass. “If you say so.” 

“I’m fine.” Sam turned his body to face her. “Look. I don’t have a soul. And I’m fine with that. I . . . feel different, but it’s not worse, okay?”

“Yeah.” Alex nodded. “I get it. I don’t have a soul either, you know.” She grabbed her phone, checking her voicemail. Nothing. 

“But you have grace. Which is basically —”

“An angel’s soul,” Alex finished. “Yeah, I know. Heard the spiel before, thanks.” She leaned back in her chair, ignoring Sam and scrolling through her contacts. She sighed. 

“Something’s wrong,” Sam stated in a matter-of-fact tone.

“I guess.” Alex brushed him off. He didn’t have a soul. He didn't give a damn what was wrong. “Thanks for noticing.” 

“Yeah. Sure.” Sam turned back to his work, and Alex drifted off into her thoughts. 

 

 **W** hen Dean woke up, he was hungry. The minute he was dressed, he was out the door, Alex and Sam following close behind. 

 

 **“S** o on top of all the angels and demons and ghosts and skinwalkers, it turns out theres — so if aliens are real, then what’s next? Hobbits? Seriously.” 

Alex huffed in slight amusement, picking at her caesar salad. They were seated in the same diner she and Sam had been in the night before eating lunch. Dean himself didn’t seem to be excessively hungry, but had already downed half of his coffee. Apparently he hadn’t slept much last night, being abducted and all.

Sam’s eyes wandered over to their waitress. She walked by, dressed in a short flannel dress, and he flicked his head up slightly in greeting. She smiled and flounced away. 

Dean completely noticed. “You just gave her the silent ‘how ya doing,’ ” he stated flatly. 

“What?” Sam turned his attention back to his brother.

Dean leaned forward. “Our reality is _collapsing_ around us, and you’re trying to pick up our waitress.” 

“Yeah. Okay. Look.” Sam leaned forward as well, confusion in his gaze. “Brings up a question. So, say you’ve got a soul and you’re on a case, and your brother gets abducted by aliens—”

“Yeah, then you do everything you can to get him back!” 

“Right!” Sam vehemently agreed before adding, “You do, but, what if there are no more leads for the night? Are you suppose to just sit there in the dark and suffer, even when there’s nothing that can be done at the moment?”

“Yes!” 

“Kinda,” Alex agreed. 

“What?” Sam seemed genuinely confused. 

Dean repeated himself. “Yes, you sit there in the dark and you _feel_ the loss.” 

“Absolutely!” However, Sam just seemed to be agreeing for his brother’s sake. His next statement confirmed Alex’s assumption. “But couldn’t I just do all that . . . and have sex with the hippie chick?”

“No!” 

“It’d be in the dark —” Sam cut off when Alex kicked him under the table. “Ow.” 

“No you couldn’t because you would be suffering, and you can’t just _turn that off for the night_.” Dean immediately lowered his voice as the waitress approached. 

“Thanks guys,” she smiled, dropping the check on the table. She walked away, and Alex kicked Sam again, pulling his attention back to her and Dean. 

“Why not?” Sam asked, picking up where they left off. 

“Because if you had a soul, it wouldn’t let you.”

“So you’re saying a soul equals suffering.” 

“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying.” 

“Like, the million times you almost called Lisa. So you’re saying suffering is a good thing.” 

“I’m saying it’s the only game in town.” 

“Okay!” Sam metaphorically threw up his hands, giving up. “So how do we deal with the little green men?” 

“Research. We’ve got about a century of UFO lore to catch up on, and there’s no time for —” Dean glanced towards the front of the restaurant, then did a double take. “What’s up with that guy?” 

“That guy?” Alex leaned into the table to see past Dean’s broad shoulders. There were a few people sitting at tables, but nothing that really caught her attention as being strange. 

“Who?” Sam was having the same difficulty locating what Dean was talking about.

“The guy by the window giving me the stink eye.”

Alex shook her head. The closest person to the window was a large cop, but he didn’t seem to have even seen them. “The cop?” she asked, eyes moving to search for other windows. That was the only one. 

“No, not the cop.” Dean stood up, voice agitated that they didn’t see what he saw. “The guy! He’s right — oh now he’s gone.” 

“Who’s gone?” Sam stood up beside his brother, brow creased in confusion.

“Can we please just get out of here before I hit you?”

“Okay! Geez.” Sam looked down at Alex, eyebrows raised in silent communication. 

She nodded, then followed after Dean. “He’s, uh, he’s just shaken up,” she whispered up to the taller hunter in a weak defense. 

Sam just grunted. 

 

 **I** t was five hours later. Alex was slumped against the library’s wall, tired eyes focusing and unfocusing on the laptop’s screen. Sam was sitting at the table to her left, flipping through a large stack of books. 

The screen froze, and Alex slammed the laptop shut with a grunted curse, ignoring the disdaining looks she got from the people around her. She stomped over to the table and sat down with a huff across from Sam. “Damn laptop froze again,” she muttered, reaching for his. 

“Hey hey hey.” Sam tried to pull his laptop away, but Alex was too fast. 

“Relax. It didn’t freeze cause of porn or anything. I’m not Dean.” Alex opened his laptop. “It froze cause it’s a sucky piece of shit.” 

“You’re lucky you have it,” Sam reminded. 

“Yeah, right. Next time we gank someone, I get first dibs on their laptop, okay? Whoever owned this one sucked.” She pulled up YouTube, which she had been on before before letting out a sigh and looking up at Sam. “You know most of this is just crap, right?” She googled “ _UFO documentaries._ ” Then she clicked on the link she had been watching. “I swear,” she grumbled. “If I hear the phrase ‘close encounter’ one more time, I’m gonna kill. Not even joking. I’m gonna pull out my gun and shoot your computer.” 

“You better not.”

“Just you watch,” the female angel muttered, plugging in her headphones.

Sam’s phone rang, and he answered. “Hey. Library’s closing up soon. Almost done.” A pause, and Sam rubbed his forehead with a huge hand. “Yeah. Way too much. Everyone on the planet believes in UFOs, and they will not stop writing books about them.” 

Alex laughed quietly at Sam’s words, pausing her show. 

“Yeah, okay.” Sam hung up and closed the book he was looking at. 

“What’s up?”

“Nothing. He’s not having any luck on his end.” Sam shoved his phone in his pocket and stood up. “Should we go?”

“I thought you’d never ask.” 

 

 **T** he drive back was silent and insignificant. Alex rested her head against the Impala’s windows, eyes closed, listening to the comforting purr of the engine. Only when it stopped did she open her eyes. Sam got out, and Alex followed with a tired groan. She stretched her wings out, feathers fluttering at the unpleasant chill in the air. She followed Sam into the motel when —

“Sam!” Dean was at the door, eyes wide. “Come here.” He rushed into the motel. Sam and Alex exchanged a look, then followed worriedly. 

Dean pulled open the microwave then pointed inside. “Do you see it?” 

Sam and Alex peered inside. The inside looked as immaculate as ever. “See what?” Sam asked, while Alex just grunted in confusion. 

“See what?” Dean sounded shocked. “S-See the b-blood. See, see all the . . . blechh.” His eyes were wide, and mouth pulled back in a look of disgust and disbelief.

Sam straightened up, shaking his head. “Sorry, man. I don’t see anything.” 

Alex reached inside, touching the back of the appliance. Dean tugged on her shoulder. “Hey hey hey. Don’t touch the blechh.” 

She pulled back with a shiver. “Hey, uh, does it feel . . . cold in there?” She looked up at the Winchesters. 

Concerned, Sam reached inside. “It feels normal.” 

Dean confirmed. “Feels fine. But you don’t see the ick? It’s right there!” He gestured back to the microwave vehemently. 

Alex shook her head. “I really don’t see anything. Let’s, uh, let’s say that, for some reason, you see it and we don’t. So . . . what do you see?” 

Dean slammed the microwave door closed. “It was, it was a little . . . naked lady,” Dean finally admitted, wiping his hand off on the green-and-white checkered hand towel. 

“It was a what?” Sam stared at his brother, and his face scrunched up in confusion.

“It was a, a little, glowing — hot — naked lady. With nipples.” He added a bit sullenly, “And she hit me.” 

Alex couldn’t hold back an amused breath. 

“I’m not suppose to laugh, right?” Sam asked. 

“I’m laughing,” Alex pointed out. 

“It’s not funny,” Dean snapped. He slapped the hand towel down on the counter.

“Okay.” Sam put a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Um, shot in the dark here, but did this little lady have wings?” 

Dean’s face said it all. “What the hell made you say that?”

“She did, didn’t she?” Sam crossed the room, pulling out his laptop and turning it on, attention focused on the screen.

“Yeah, but how did, how did—”

“It’s one of the fringier theories I came across.” Sam typed in his password, voice as excited as Alex had heard it in a long time. “I-It’s actually what that crazy crystal lady was yammering about.” 

“What?” Alex and Dean turned to look at each other. 

“Jinx!” Alex raised her hand. “You owe me lunch.” 

Dean shook his head. “No I don’t,” he defended. 

Sam continued right on, ignoring their small bickering. “Okay, say these encounters have been going on for centuries, not with extra-terrestrials, but with ultra-terrestrials.”

“Okay, you lost me.” Alex crossed the room to stand by the table as Dean sat down in front of her. She shifted slightly to the side to make room. “The hell you talking about, man?”

“It makes sense,” Sam insisted. “People nowadays say ‘space aliens,’ but they use to call them —” He spun the computer around. 

Alex stared at the title of the website. 

“Smurfs?” 

“Fairies.” Both Sam and Alex corrected at the same time. Alex accentuated her word with a small cuff over his head with her wing. 

“Fairies? Come on!” 

“Dean, there’s a straight line between ETs and fairies. Glowing lights, abductions. It’s all the same UFO stuff, just under a different skin.” 

“Dude, fairies abduct people?” Alex sat down in the chair between Sam and Dean, facing the wall. “That— that’s just weird.” 

“That’s what all the stuff says, yeah.” Sam nodded in agreement. 

“You seriously think the secret to UFOs is —”

“You’re the one who pizzarolled Tinkerbell,” Sam countered. “I’m just doing the math. But this is good. This is a lead.”

“A lead?” Dean repeated. “A lead where?” 

“To that crazy cat lady.” Sam closed his laptop. 

“Seriously?” Dean still seemed very skeptical. “You want to go talk to _her_?” 

“Hey. She’s the one who called the whole fairy thing first, okay? It’s the best lead we got.” 

Dean glanced over at Alex. The female angel shrugged. “Best shot we got. Unless you think we found anything good with this alien thing.” 

Dean grunted, then stretched his arms high above his head. He brought his hands down to rub his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Sure. Whatever. Tomorrow, okay?” He stood up, moving towards the bathroom. “I’m going to pee, then go to bed.”

As soon as he was out of sight, Sam frowned. “Does he seem a little weird to you?”

“Dude, the man was abducted by aliens or fairies or whatever last night, okay? Give him a bit of a break.” Alex rested both of her feet on one of Sam’s. “Not to mention he’s barely slept at all lately.” 

Sam just grunted.

Alex turned her attention to the motel. She hadn’t really been in here a whole lot, and finally took the chance to study it in depth. “Fugly,” she finally said. 

“What?” 

“The room.” Alex motioned to the green rose-patterned chairs. “These things look like they fell out of the seventies, and look at that ugly-ass mural.” She pointed to the wall she was currently facing, which happened to the the left one in perspective from the door. “It’s like a forest. Just . . . why?” 

“Hey.” Dean stepped out of the bathroom. “We’re getting this place for fifty bucks a night, you understand? Be glad the only thing you’ve got to complain about is the fucking aesthetics.” 

“Go to bed,” Alex snapped back. “You’re in a pissy mood.”

“As are you,” Sam countered. Alex glared at him, and he put a hand on Alex’s shoulder. “Why don’t you both go to bed, okay? I’ll keep looking.” 

Alex nodded reluctantly and stood up, grumbling all the way to her bag. She pulled out a pair of basketball shorts and a t-shirt, then changed into them before collapsing onto the squeaky mattress.

Dean took the other bed. After a second, Alex moved so she was next to him, curling up and pressing her back into his side. A hand came to rest on her ribs, and Alex sighted, eyes falling shut. She pushed closer, drifting into sleep. 

 

 **S** he didn’t dream that night, and woke when Dean rolled away onto his stomach. Still dreary with sleep, she followed him, resting her head on his back, shoulders pressed against his side. She curled her body in tight, one wing resting over her, the other across Dean’s legs. 

“Hey. Get up.” A meant-to-be-gentle slap on her leg had Alex opening her eyes. Sam was standing there, staring down at her. 

“Ow,” the girl complained, unwrapping herself from her wings. “The hell you want, man?” 

“I got breakfast.” Sam motioned vaguely to the table. “Hungry?” 

“You woke me up to eat?” Alex grumbled. The angel half of her was cranky, and wanted to snuggle back up to Dean, but the human half of her was definitely all for food. With another muttered insult, she got up and walked over to the table. 

She smelled it before saw it. “What?” She pulled open the McDonald’s bag. “Dude. This is a bag full of hashbrowns.” 

“Yeah.” Sam didn’t seem to have a problem with it. “Come on. Eat up.” 

“That — this is all?” 

“There’s coffee.” 

Alex took the cup she was handed, sniffing in disgust. “You know I _despise_ black coffee, right?” 

“Yeah.” 

 

 **A** lmost exactly seven hours later, Dean pulled the Impala up alongside a small brick home. Even from across the street, Alex could tell that the inside was dark and cluttered. “She lives _here_?” She pulled her lip up in the hint of disgust before letting it drop again. “Great.” 

“What’s up with you?” Dean got out of the car, and Alex was quick to follow, standing in front of him. “Sam’s right. You have been pissy lately.”

“I have not!” Alex snapped, wings flaring up in agitation, but she let them drop with a sigh. “I haven’t been dreaming, alright?” she finally admitted. “No dreaming means no Lucifer, which means I haven’t had contact with an angel for at least what? Five days now? Not to mention I just got out of heat!”

“Wow.” Sam walked around the car to stand by her side. “You can’t even go five days without another angel?” He let out an amused huff. “Talk about co-dependent.”  
 “Wow. You can’t even go five minutes without air?” Alex shot back. “Talk about co-dependent.” When Sam opened his mouth to respond, she snapped, “Fuck off, Sam.” 

Suddenly her back was against the Impala, and she let out a small squeak of alarm.

“Don’t talk to my brother like that,” Dean said quietly, voice deepening into a growl. “I don’t want to ship you off to Bobby, but I _will_ , you get me?” 

Alex lowered her gaze, studying the ground. “Sorry,” she mumbled, wings dropping low in defeat and submission. “I . . . I’ll try to behave.” 

“You do that.” Dean let her go, and Alex slunk a few steps away, wings pinned tightly to her back. “Come on.” He led the way to the trailer. Alex trailed sullenly behind. 

Dean knocked on the door, and Alex studied an ass-ugly garden gnome that stood beside the front step. She pushed down the sudden urge to kick it across the yard. Instead, she stood up straighter, rolling her shoulders and her wings in an attempt to relieve some of her frustration. 

“Come in, come in!” The woman answered the door. “I’ve been expecting you.” 

Alex followed the Winchesters into the trailer, glancing around. The place was covered floor to ceiling with small figurines. 

The woman ushered them over to the small table. Dean and Sam slid into one side of the booth, leaving the other side for the woman. Alex caught Dean’s eye, silently communicating her resentment of once again having to sit with the stranger. 

Dean widened his eyes intentionally in a gesture of ‘shut the fuck up and do it,’ and Alex sat down across from Sam, wings pulled in tight. 

“Your brother tells me you were contacted by a fairy.” 

“Uh, yeah. That’s right. That’s, uh, nice collection you got there,” Dean add, glancing around. “Ms, uh . . .”

“Just Marion. And thank you.” Marion moved towards the stove, pulling off the tea kettle. She poured the tea into the small cups sitting at the table before returning to the stove. “Fairies. Sprites and spriggens. Bogarts and brownies. The little people have many names.” She returned to the table and set down a plate of scones before sitting down next to Alex, who shifted closer to the wall. 

Dean pointed to a small figurine that sat on a small end table. “Well, that’s, uh, that’s her. That’s the little —” He cut himself off, not bothering to finish. “Anyways. I get that tinkerbells are fairies, but what about the tiny Santa Claus and the troll and the—”

Marion pointed to each in turn. “That’s a garden gnome, that’s a goblin, and —”

“But they’re all fairies?” Dean persisted. 

“Yes. Fairy come in many shapes and sizes. Magical, mischievous beings from the realm next door.” 

Alex huffed, taking a small sip of her tea, then let the liquid fall back into the cup. The only sign of her discomfort was the ruffling of her feathers and the faint twitch of her nose. She hated tea. 

“The fairy realm,” Dean was saying, still not grasping the concept.

“Mm-hmm.” 

“So it’s like another dimension?” Sam asked, eyes narrowed slightly as he comprehend what the woman was saying. 

“Another reality! Yes. Only people who have been there and returned to this realm can see the fairy here.” 

“Right. Why, um, are they abducting people?” 

“Mmm.” Marion took a moment to consider this. When she spoke, she sounded as confident and casual as if she were talking about the weather. “There is much theory and little fact. We know that they only take first-born sons, like Rumpelstiltskin did. Personally, I think they are taken to Avalon. To service Olberon, the King of the Fairy.” 

Alex barely held back skeptical snort, but both Sam and Dean managed to look somewhat uneasy. “Dean?” Sam turned his head to look at his brother. “Did you . . . service Olberon, King of the Fairies?” 

“Marion.” Dean immediately turned his attention back to the woman, uncomfortably ignoring his brother. “Um. Let’s say fairies are real, okay? What can we do about them?” 

“Sorry?” 

“How can we . . .”

“Interact,” Alex finished.

Dean agreed. “Yeah. Forcefully interact.”

“Well,” Marion began, glancing between Alex and Dean, “if you want to win a fairy’s favor, leave a bowl of fresh cream. They love cream.” 

“Okay.” Dean nodded. “And . . . more forcefully?” 

“Ohh.” The woman nodded in understanding. “Well, all fairy hate iron, and the dark fairy burn when touched with silver. What else.” She took a sip of her tea, thinking deeply. “Oh! You can spill sugar or salt in front of them. No matter how powerful, the fairy must stoop to count each grain.” 

Alex nodded. That was good. They could work with that. 

“Well, alrighty.” Dean glanced at his brother. “That’s — Wow! A lot to absorb. Thank you.” They moved to go, and Alex eagerly awaited her chance to leave. 

“Oh, oh, stay!” Marion insisted. “Finish your tea.” 

The Winchesters sat back down, ignoring Alex’s glare. “I gotta say,” Dean began, “I, I love the feel — it’s, uhh, it’s . . .”

“It’s like Sedona, Arizona, crapped in here,” Sam finished quietly. Alex snickered in agreement. 

“Cute-a-riffic!” Dean said quickly. “Is what it is.” 

Marion laughed, a small blush across her cheeks at Dean’s compliment. 

Sam picked up his tea, looking at the cup that seemed dwarfed in his hand. “You got bigger cups?” he asked, taking a small sip. 

“Hey. Smaller cups mean smaller portions,” Alex muttered, staring at the foul-smelling liquid in her teacup. 

“I think we’re done here.” Dean stood up, nudging Sam out of the trailer. Alex followed, glad to be once again in the clean air. 

“That was weird.” Sam moved towards the Impala. 

Alex followed, but Dean was in front of her in an instant. “What the hell did we just discuss?” he whispered angrily. 

“What?” 

“It’s bad enough dealing with Sam, okay? I don’t want to have to put up with your shit too.” 

“Oh, so Sam can say stuff like that, and I can’t?” Alex snapped, even though she knew she was going to completely lose his argument. 

“ _Sam_ doesn’t have a _soul_. You’re an angel. You —” Dean cut himself off. “You know what, you’re going back to the motel. I’m calling Cas, and you and him are gonna have a little one-on-one time, okay?” 

“Dean!” 

“No. I need you at one hundred percent, cause I can’t do this alone.” 

Alex dropped her head. “Okay,” she finally said. “Fine. Whatever.” 

Dean’s eyes flickered over her before he grunted out a ‘good.’ He got into the Impala and slid the key into the ignition. “God, is it on me? I feel like I got crazy on me,” he muttered as the engine purred to life.

Sam glanced over at his brother. “No. You did sit on some glitter, though.” 

Alex snickered, and Dean shifted in his seat. “Makes me want to believe in UFOs again.”

Sam agreed, “Doesn’t really give us our next move, I grant you that. We can always put a call out to Bobby.” He glanced back at Alex, who shrugged, slumping farther down in her seat. 

“You could check out the watchmaker again,” she suggested. “There’s something about him doesn’t feel . . . right. Something tells me he’s in on whatever the hell is going on.”

“Yeah, okay.” Dean turned the car onto the main road. “Me and Sam will put a tail on him while you’re doing your thing, okay?” 

“Her thing?” Sam repeated, glancing back at her. “What kind of thing?” 

“It’s nothing.”

“A kinky thing?” 

“I said shut up.” Alex reached out with her grace and tugged on her hair. 

“Ow!” Sam spun around.

“Stop it,” Dean snapped. “Alex, leave him alone. Sam, shut the hell up.” 

Alex fell into a grumpy silence. 

 

 **S** he pushed her way into the motel, slamming the door behind her. “Cas!” she yelled. “Get the hell down here!” 

Nothing. 

Alex looked around, wings flaring up angrily. “Dammit, man!” Her voice cracked, and she sat down on the bed, on the verge of tears. “Castiel. I _need_ you.” 

“What’s wrong?” Suddenly the seraphim landed in front of her, worry across his face. “Alex. What happened?” 

The constant itching in Alex’s grace suddenly grew tenfold, and she jumped up, pulling her angel into a hug. “I missed you,” she whispered, burying her head in his chest. “I, I want to come home.” 

She didn’t realize she was crying until she felt Castiel’s wings fold down around her, and his face rest in her hair. “It’s okay,” he promised, rumbling voice and gentle touches soothing her in a way nothing else could. “You can’t come home yet.” Alex whimpered, pushing herself closer, and the angel stroked her wings. “What’s wrong, _iaida turs_?”    
_Most beautiful._ Alex sniffled. “I’m so lonely.” She clutched his trench coat in closed fists, not wanting to ever let go. “I-I haven’t been dreaming. Dean — I can’t hunt like this. I can’t do anything right.”

“Shh.” Castiel gently guided her to the bed, where they sat down. Alex climbed into his lap, and he let her. “You’re okay, _le pas enay_. I’m right here. You’re going to be fine.” Fingers tangled in her blonde hair, and Castiel tugged her head back so he could look into her eyes. “Your brain is still changing. It’ll only be a little longer before everything goes back to normal.”

“I don’t like it.” 

“I know. You just need to be strong a little longer.” He reached out, cupping Alex’s cheek, and the young angel closed her eyes, leaning into the touch with a small sigh. “The war will be over soon. Then you can finally come home.” 

“I can’t wait.” 

Castiel looked around the room, then rested his forehead against hers. “Thank you for not calling Balthazar.” 

“Of course.” Alex looked confused. “Why would I call him? Look at me, Cas.” She let out a small smile. “Balthazar’s kinda pushy, and I’m in no state to resist. Besides, I don’t love him like I love you.”

“Do you mean that?” 

“Yeah, I mean that.” Alex pressed a chaste kiss on his lips. “Why would I _ever_ love B more than you?” Castiel looked away, and Alex wrapped a hand around the back of his neck. “I love you more than him,” she promised. “And I always will.” 

“You deserve someone better.” 

Alex blinked. Out of everyone she knew, Castiel was the last one she would have suspected to be insecure. “Well, I don’t think God is looking for a mate,” she finally joked. “So I guess I’m stuck with second best.” She kissed him before he could respond. “The Winchesters’ll be back in a few hours,” she murmured. “Think you can stay?” 

“Anything for you.” 

 

 **“W** hat do you want?” 

“Excuse me?” Castiel looked down at Alex, who was laying with her head in his lap. 

“What do you want?” she repeated, eyes closed in contentment. “In life. What’s your dream?” 

The angel was silent for several seconds, running his fingers through her hair. “I want a family,” he finally said. “You as my mate, and fledglings. I want to love them, I want to protect them. I want their respect and their love.” 

“Really? Out of everything, that’s what you want.”

“Respect and love. Yes.” Castiel dipped his head, breath warm on her skin. “If you could feel the way I do when I imagine you with my fledglings, you would want the same.” His grace pushed against hers, and Alex watched his wings flare wide. Then they dropped, curling back around her. “What is it you want, _le enay_?”

“I want to be content,” Alex said quietly. “And I want to be loved.” 

“You are. Do . . . do you want fledglings?” 

Alex tugged gently on his tie. “Yeah,” she admitted. “Eventually. I want kids. Always kind of have, deep down inside.” Love and longing suddenly swirled through her chest, but she pushed it away. “One day,” she promised. “But not now.” 

“Not now,” Castiel agreed. He stroked the angel’s wings, and her eyes fell closed. 

Alex’s phone rang. The female angel let out a groan, grace pushing out to try and find where she left it. 

“Ignore it,” Castiel growled, fingers running through her feathers.

“Might be Dean.” 

“You’re not Dean’s.”

“I’m not _anybody’s_.” Alex reluctantly sat up, leaning across her mate’s lap to grab the phone off of the nightstand. Cas pulled her back into him, and Alex let out a surprised squeak, but settled down in his lap. “Alex.” She answered the phone.

“How fast can you get down to the watchmaker’s store?”

“Dean.” Castiel’s deep voice rumbled next to Alex’s ear. 

“Cas. Uh, hey. You’re still there, huh?” 

“It hasn’t been that long,” Alex defended. “Like what, two hours?” 

“It been six,” Dean said flatly. 

_Oh_. “Really? Sorry. We . . . lost track of time.”

“You better not be on my bed.”

“Not like that, _εσείς βλάκας_.” _You moron_. 

Castiel chuckled, while Dean most likely just frowned. “Just get over here.” 

“Yes sir.” Alex hung up. “Sorry,” she murmured, twisting her head to kiss her mate. “Duty calls.” 

Castiel kissed her back. 

 

 **“S** hit.” Alex pulled her head away, glancing at the clock. “Dean.” 

Castiel tipped his head. “The man is capable of taking care of himself.” He kissed her again.

“I promised I’d meet him.” Alex pulled herself out from under the angel. “It’s been ten minutes.” She hurriedly pulled on her shoes. 

Castiel stood, waiting for her to finish. Alex ran up to him, straightening his tie and running a hand through his hair to somewhat calm it down. Cassiel let her do as she did, not fully understanding. He caught her hand in his, and then they were standing behind Dean. Alex cleared her throat.

“Fuck.” Dean spun around, and his eyes narrowed accusingly. “It’s about time.” 

“It took a little while to get ready,” Alex lied. 

“Like hell it did. Next time I say now, I mean now. Not make out first and then get over here.” When Alex opened her mouth to protest, he gestured to Castiel. “His tie is straight. First time in forever.”

“Dammit.” Alex mentally smacked herself in the head. In her haste she had forgotten about that. “Okay, okay. Fine. But you’re the one who said I should call him.”

Dean just shook his head and changed the subject. “We saw Mr. Brennan buying cream,” he told them. “Like, an assload of cream.” 

“How much is an assload exactly?” 

“Looked like he bought out the entire store.” Dean turned to the locked door, pulling out his lock-kit. Castiel motioned towards the lock, and the door silently swung open. Dean muttered something under his breath that Alex didn’t quite catch before leading the way in. 

The minute Alex stepped inside, she shivered. Goosebumps crawled up her arms. “Why is is always so cold in here?” she muttered. 

Dean glanced back at her in confusion. “It’s not.” He reached the door and pulled out his silver knife.

“There are fairies here,” Castiel murmured. He reached out and took Alex’s hand. “Dark fairies. I can feel them too.” 

“So this isn’t just her brain —” Dean cut off when he stepped into the room.

Alex peered through the door, and immediately felt the chill. “I don’t see them,” she whispered. She watched as one of the machines moved on its own, and curiosity shot through her. “I want to see them.” 

_Quiet_. Castiel’s voice sounded inside her mind. _Watch the shadows. You can see them there_.

Confused, but trusting her mate, Alex scanned the room, focusing on the shadows. One moved. Several were moving. She focused on them, watching them dip and sway. One moved across the room, and the harder Alex focused, the more clearly she could see the mostly-transparent shape of a small man. 

Dean moved backwards, and Alex backpedaled to give him room. “Whoa,” she finally said when the door closed. “So. Fairies.” 

Dean went out the building, and Alex followed. “Yeah.” He walked toward the street, pulling out his phone, calling his brother. “Fucking full of Keeblers over here, man.” He finally said when Sam picked up. “Just full of ‘em.” 

“How come no hunter’s ever heard of fairies before then?” Alex hurried after him, her interest peaked. Not getting an answer, she spoke to Castiel. “How did you know I’d — Cas?” She spun around in a circle, looking for the angel. “Castiel!” 

“Probably back in heaven.” Dean hung up the phone and looked over at her. 

“No shit, Sherlock,” Alex snapped. “But he tells me when he leaves. He doesn’t just disappear like he does to you.” She pushed out her grace, but only picked up the lingering trace of her mate. “Do you think something’s wrong?” 

“I’m sure everything’s —” Suddenly Dean stopped. 

Alex looked up at him, very much confused. “Dean?” She followed his gaze across the street. “Bolle’s Taxidermy,” she read. “What?” 

“It’s the man from the window,” Dean whispered, pointing. “There! Don’t you see him?” 

Alex pushed her grace out, then recoiled with a shudder. “I definitely _feel_ him,” she grimaced. She squinted, searching for the pale shadow before tracing it up to the barely-there outline of a man. “Is he following you?” she asked worriedly. “I don’t like the feel of him, Dean. He feels . . . dark. Evil.” 

Dean took a step backwards, barely grunting his acknowledgement of her warning. Alex watched as the transparent figure followed Dean back down the street. She pulled her wings in close, following. “Dean . . .”

Dean picked up his pace, and Alex glanced behind them. “I can’t see it anymore,” she whispered, matching her stride to his. She reached to her side and pulled her angel blade free as Dean glanced over his shoulder. “Where is it?” 

“Come on.” Dean suddenly crossed the street, then broke into a run. 

“Dean!” Alex flicked her grace out, blindly reaching for the darkness. Something solid connected with her back, and the angel fell. She twisted at the last second, narrowly avoiding impaling herself on her weapon. However, the blade still caught her in the upper arm, and she let out a pained cry. She grabbed her right bicep, feeling blood flow freely. “Dammit!” 

She pushed her grace against it, trying to heal it faster, but to no avail. The female angel suddenly pulled herself to her feet. “Dean!” She ran down the alley, sliding her blade down her hip. “Dean!” 

“Help! Help!” 

Alex froze. That wasn’t Dean. Didn’t sound like him at all. “Dean?” She broke into a run. She rounded the corner and slid to a halt. “Dean!” 

The hunter was on the ground, holding a small man in a chokehold. 

“Daddy!” A young girl rushed past Alex, and Dean looked up.

His gaze met hers, and Alex shook her head, rushing forward. “Not a fairy,” she growled under her breath, pulling Dean away. 

“Oh God no.” Dean stood up, holding his hands up. A large crowd had gathered, and Alex felt her face flush with embarrassment. “Haha. Just kidding!” Dean looked down at the man with a forced smile. 

Alex turned her attention to him, kneeling down. “You okay?” 

The man grunted. “I’m fine.” 

Alex could see why Dean had mistaken him for a fairy. He was dwarfed, maybe four feet in height. However, he was quite human, as Alex’s grace proved. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine.”

The sound of rapidly approaching sirens made Alex stand up. She turned to Dean. “Great. Police.” She shoved her hands in her pockets, searching for the right ID. 

“What the hell happened?” Dean reached out, grabbing her right arm. 

Alex winced at the pain. “Your fairy buddy shoved me. I’m fine. Just a little scrape.” 

“From?” 

“Angel blade. He shoved me, I fell, I avoided being impaled. I’m _fine_.” 

A squad car pulled up, and two officers got out. Dean held up his hands. “I can explain . . .” He reached into his pocket, and tossed something at Alex.

The next thing Alex knew, Dean was against the police car, hands behind his back. She looked down into hands to see the Impala’s keys. 

“Dean!” Alex perked up at Sam’s voice. The Winchester was standing next to Mr. Brennan, face throughly confused. “Hey dude! What happened?” 

“Sam! Hey!” Dean was suddenly pulled towards the open door of the squad car. He was thrown into the back seat.

Sam moved closer. “What I am I suppose to do?” he yelled.

“Fight the fairies! You fight the fairies!” Dean stuck his head back out of the car. “Fight the fairies!” The door was slammed in his face, and the squad car drove away. 

Alex hurried over to Sam. “Where the hell have you been?” 

“Watching him.” Sam motioned with his head to the watchmaker. “What the hell happened?” 

“Remember the guy Dean saw in the window during lunch? Well, he’s a fairy.” Alex reached up and wrapped her left arm around her right bicep, groaning internally to feel that it was still bleeding. “He started following Dean after we got out of the watch shop. Dean started running. I lost them when that son of a bitch shoved me. The next thing I know, Dean’s got a chokehold on that midget over there.” She vaguely motioned behind her. 

“What happened to you?” Sam’s dark hazel eyes rested on her bloodied shirt. 

“Like I said. Son of a bitch pushed me. I fell, cut myself on my angel blade.” She rolled her sleeve up, letting the taller hunter have a look. “My grace isn’t healing it. Maybe cause it was caused by an angelic weapon or some shit.” 

“I’m sorry. Angelic weapon?” Mr. Brennan looked thoroughly confused. 

Alex smiled. _Right_. “Hi.” She held out her hand as Sam examined the cut. “Alex. Angel of the Lord.”

“L-Like an —”

“Yup. I got wings too.” Alex flared hers out in demonstration, forgetting it remained unseen by the humans. “Can’t fly tho— ow!” 

“It’ll need stitches.” Sam pulled her sleeve back down over her arm. 

“You didn’t need to poke it!” 

“Come on. We’re wasting time.” Sam moved off down the street. 

Alex followed, head tipped in confusion. “Where are we going? What’s going on?” 

“Mr. Brennan worked a spell. The fairies work for him, and they took his firstborn. He’s got the book back at his workshop.”

“Dude, no.” Alex stepped in front of the hunter, holding out her hands and wings to stop him. “There’s no way we’re getting in there. The place is crawling with fairies!” Her voice dropped. “You know when I felt cold in that building? It wasn’t my mind fritzing. It was me sensing fairies. And you want to walk straight in there?” 

“Yeah.” Sam moved off down the street. “Besides, you got your ‘angelic weapon or some shit.’ ”

Alex rolled her eyes, trailing after Sam. She pushed her grace gently against him, feeling for his weapons. The pump-action shotgun in his hand was a given, loaded with iron pellets — Alex hated the way iron felt against her grace. Like nails on a chalkboard — and there was a silver knife in its sheath, right beside his handgun. Salt, too, somewhere in the pocket. Alex pulled back after a second, the feeling of his warm skin making her uncomfortable. 

Sam and Mr. Brennan moved down the alley and stopped by the back door. It swung open, and Sam led the way inside. “Are they here?” he whispered, moving into the main room. 

Mr. Brennan nodded, and Alex shivered at the cold air. “Yeah, but it’s alright. Greenhats love tequila.” 

“You sure they’re out?” Her blade slipped into her hands as she forced herself further into the room.  
“Positive.” Mr. Brennan hurried over to the safe. He pulled out a thick leather-bound book. “ _Lich sha-hayt,_ ” he began. Alex narrowed her eyes, pulsing her grace out. “ _Un keyed shun, augus smal un sorashun, augus phoetek en shia,_ ” There. Alex felt something. Something dark. “ _En rache connectsa_ —” The man cut off with a gasp. The smell of blood and the sound of tearing flesh filled the air, and Alex spun around. 

There was a stick through Mr. Brennan’s chest. The old man made one last quiet noise, then fell to the ground. A fairy stood behind him. Alex recognized him immediately. Wayne. The UFO expert. He held a black cane in his hand, the end covered in blood.

“You!” Sam stared in shock. “You’re the leprechaun?” 

_The leprechaun_? Alex frowned. She hadn’t been told about there being a particular leprechaun. She shifted her weight, tightening her grip on her weapon. Goosebumps ran up her arms, and she shivered. 

Wayne turned his attention to her. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen an angel,” he commented offhandedly. “What brings your kind back?” 

“I’m a hunter,” Alex growled. He sounded like a leprechaun. Irish, and all. The accent was new.

Wayne the Leprechaun looked down at Mr. Brennan’s body. “Sorry about the mess, but your friend here went back on his deal.” He carefully wiped his cane off with a white cloth.

“Well, you weren’t very clear with him on the terms.” 

“I told him there was a price.” The leprechaun wandered closer, only slowing down when Sam raised his gun and Alex adjusted her grip on her blade. He held up his hands. “Once we come, we come to stay.”

“So you take the firstborn and then what? You just sit back and watch as they cover the abductions for you with all that crazy UFO crap? Which you help encourage, naturally.” Sam let out a huff of disgust. “Nice con. But your cover’s blown now, _Wayne_.”

“Blown?” Wayne repeated. “Blown to whom? Brennan’s dead. Your brother? He’s marked. Been to the ranch. He’s ours now.”

“Yeah. Well. Then there’s me.”

“You? But you can only see me —” the leprechaun suddenly vanished — “if I let you.”

Alex pulsed her grace out, searching for the fairy. “True,” Sam agreed, raising his gun, turning from side to side, “But you’ll have to get near me eventually. And I have very good reflexes.”

 _There_. “Behind,” Alex hissed, spinning around.

The leprechaun reappeared in front of her. “You’re not like the rest of them, are you?” he asked, tipping his head. Dark eyes studied Sam. 

Sam didn’t seem perturbed. “Nope.”  
 “I could see that right off. As clear as the wings on your friend’s back.” At those words, Alex’s wings twitched uncomfortably. Wayne continued, “You’re missing a . . . certain piece, right in the center, ain’t ya?” 

“Says who?” 

“We fairy folk? We’re all about energy. And the human soul gives off a certain,” he paused, inhaling loudly through his nose, “perfume. Your soul is far away, but not out of reach.”

“Is that so?” The Winchester sounded skeptical.

The leprechaun landed against a table, resting his hands on his wooden cane. “Sam, I can get it back for you. For a price.”

Sam let out a disbelieving laugh. “That’s adorable.” His face grew cold. “It’s locked in a box. With the devil.”

“ _Your_ devil. Not mine.” 

“Like that makes a fucking difference,” Alex snapped. “It wasn't _Baldur’s_ devil either, and he ended up with an arm through his chest.”

Sam grunted in agreement. “There’s no fucking way a leprechaun can do what angel’s can’t.” 

“Angels.” The leprechaun actually laughed. “Please!” He suddenly vanished, appearing behind them. Alex and Sam spun around. “I’m talking about _real_ magic, sonny. From my side of the fence.” His voice dropped to a stage whisper. “Got a way of getting back doors.”

“This is pointless,” Alex growled. “Why are we even listening to him?” She moved forward, but Sam held out a hand, stopping her. Alex hissed as his palm came in contact with her cut. “Sam!” 

“So you’re my blue fairy?” the hunter asked, lowering his gun. “You can make me a real boy again?” 

“He’s going to ask for Dean!” Alex snapped. “It’s not worth it, dammit!”

The leprechaun ignored her. “When you wish upon a star,” he quipped. 

“Yeah,” Sam finally said. “I got a wish.” He raised his shotgun and fired. 

The rounds ripped through the fairy, and he stumbled backwards, dark blood splattering the walls. “Iron!” he cursed before looking back up at Sam. “Painful, but not a deal-breaker.” 

Sam shot again, but the round went through the window. Alex spun around, searching for the fairy. She shifted so her back was against Sam’s, grace flickering out in tendrils.

Sam hit the ground with a grunt. Alex spun around, wings pulled tightly in for balance, then flared them high in anger. Then she was shoved backwards. Alex lashed out with her blade, the tip catching against something. Her blow was followed by a scream.

That scream was hers. Wood pushed its way through her chest. Alex felt her grace trying to stop it, to push it back, but it was useless. Alex fell to the floor, the leprechaun’s cane sticking out of her abdomen. She felt a tug on her wrist, trying to pry away her weapon. 

Panic pushed through the young angel, and she desperately held on, knowing that giving it up would mean the death of her. Her grace screamed at the exertion of trying to free herself, and blackness threatened to push past the edge of her vision. 

Suddenly the leprechaun reappeared with a cry. Sam had lunged forward, embedding his silver knife in the fairy’s back. The leprechaun stumbled back, awkwardly reaching around to pulling the knife out. The hiss of burning flesh filled the room which faded as the knife clattered to the floor. With a snarl, the leprechaun jumped towards Sam.

Alex lay useless as the two of them fought. She turned her head away as Sam landed heavily on a table, sending pieces of half-assembled watches flying everywhere. He rolled to the ground. 

“Come on, lad.” The leprechaun stepped backwards towards Alex as Sam pulled himself to his feet, blood on his face. His hand came to rest on the head of cane, pushing down, and Alex gasped. Her grace had long since given up trying to expel the foreign object, and she threw her head back against the floor in pain. The fairy twisted the cane again, still talking to Sam. “You’ve already taken your best shot.”

“You’re right. I’m done shooting. So do me a favor.” The hunter dropped his gun and reached into his pocket. “And count this.” He pulled out a small vial of salt and poured it on the ground. Alex distantly heard each individual crystal hit the ground, one by one.  
 “Oh no.” 

Alex watched as the leprechaun kneel down with an angered breath. “Why didn’t you do that earlier?” she gasped out, closing her eyes. 

She heard Sam move past her, and then his low voice reached her ears. “ _Kuum savaltcha ar noyang_ . . .”

One the floor, Alex heard the leprechaun still counting. “One . . . three,” he mumbled. “Ass.” 

Sam’s voice continued on, “ _kun enna, ret augus. Kuum doinsha an getta wabasha shu_!” 

The air immediately warmed. Alex grunted in pain as Sam approached, and she opened her eyes. “Nice,” she managed to choke out. She looked around, but the leprechaun had vanished.

Sam knelt down beside her. “You okay?”

“Do you care?” 

The hunter shrugged. “You’re useful. You’re no good to us dead.” His eyes ran over her, trying to figure out what to do.

“Just pull the damn thing out,” Alex growled. She dropped her angel blade, letting it roll away before reaching up and grasping the wooden cane in both hands. 

Sam reached out to stop her. “You sure?” 

“It can’t kill me. It just hurts like hell.” Sam nodded, and Alex closed her eyes, steeling herself for what was to come. Even still, a strangled cry escaped as Sam suddenly yanked it out. “God!” she exclaimed, falling back against the floor. She felt blood leak out from under her, and she tried to stand up.

Sam helped her stand on shaky feet. “How are you feeling?” 

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” Alex brushed him off. “I can walk. I’m not gonna let you carry me back to the motel like a fucking baby.” 

“I wasn’t planning on carrying you.” Sam picked up his shotgun, moving towards the exit. 

Alex bent down to pick up her angel blade, gasping at the sharp pain. She pulled up her shirt to look at the dark hole through her midsection. The cane had slid in right below the ribs, missing the diaphragm, but breathing still hurt like hell. Not to mention all of the abdominal muscles that had torn. She slowly staggered after Sam. 

They went down the street to where the Impala was parked. Sam was already in the driver’s seat, on the phone. Alex collapsed into front seat, breathing labored. “Thanks for waiting,” she gasped out. 

Sam hung up. “You have the keys.”

“That I do.” Alex painfully arched her back, reaching into her pockets to retrieve the keys. She dropped them in Sam’s hand, falling back against the leather seats. “W-Who was that?”

“Dean. Said the guy he attacked is dropping all charges. He’ll be out in the morning.” Looking over at her he added, “He’s gonna kill you if you keep bleeding like that in the car.” Sam started the car, pulling it out into the empty street. 

Alex groaned, reaching behind her to feel that her jacket was sticky with blood. “I liked these clothes,” she whined. She tuned out whatever Sam replied with, focusing on her weakly pulsing grace as it rushed towards the gaping wound. 

 

 **T** en minutes later she was laying on the motel bed, wearing only her jeans and a bra. A folded towel was laying between her and the sheets, soaking up the excess blood. 

Sam stepped out of the bathroom, hair damp, a towel around his waist. Alex ran an eye across his muscular frame before returning her attention to the just-as-interesting popcorn ceiling. 

“Are you healing?” 

“Slowly.” Alex looked down at the wound. It was still a good two inches wide, and she could see almost all the way through. “It’s mostly stopped bleeding. That’s good.” She raised her arms, folding them under her head to prop it up. “I’m giving my grace a rest for a few minutes. It’s a nasty wound, and I’m not exactly strong enough to heal it all on my own.” 

“Maybe you should call Cas.”

Alex hesitated before sighing. “He’s got enough trouble already. I don’t want to worry him.” She pulled a pillow near. “I’m just going to try and get some shuteye. Throw me a blanket.”

Sam did as she asked before settling down at the table, pulling out his laptop. Alex closed her eyes, letting her tired body pull her into a deep sleep. 

 

 **“W** hat the hell happened?” Lucifer rested a large hand on her stomach, sharp face dark with worry and anger. “Who did this?” 

“I’m fine.” Alex gently pushed the archangel back, moving away. “Just a little hunting accident, okay?” She studied the ground, slightly scared by the anger in his gaze.

“ _Little_?” Suddenly Lucifer swooped her up in his arms, and Alex found herself on the bed, the archangel kneeling over her. “It looks like you’ve been impaled.” With a flick of his hand, Alex’s shirt disappeared. The young angel blushed, trying to cover up, but the archangel didn’t seem to have any interest in what she was doing. Instead, he was completely focused on the wound. Icy fingers probed gently at the torn flesh. “Tell me what happened,” he demanded. 

Alex obeyed. “It’s nothing. Firstborns were being taken in the small town. In Indiana, I think. Yeah. We thought they were UFOs. Aliens.” She ignored the Lucifer’s skeptical grunt. “Turns out it was fairies. This watchmaker made a deal, and we went to his place to get the spell book to reverse it.” 

“Who was with you?” The archangel’s voice was soft. Large, breath-taking wings curled gently around her, a symbol of safety. 

Alex felt herself relax. “Sam and the watchmaker. Dean . . . Dean got arrested for attacking a midget. Thought he was a fairy. He got abducted, actually. Abducted by fairies—”

“And how did _this_ happen?” Grace pushed against the hole. “ _This_ is what I’m concerned about. Not the Winchesters.”

“Not even about your true vessel?” Alex teased. 

Lucifer looked up, and his cold blue eyes softened. “My Father has given me something better to want after.” 

Alex looked away, embarrassed. She continued with her story. “T-This leprechaun killed the watchmaker when he tried to reverse the spell. He stuck his cane through his chest. Did the same thing to me.” Alex frowned as fingers dug into her sides angrily. “He was strong and invisible. I couldn’t see him. He managed to . . . impale me. It’s okay, though,” she added quickly. “I’m healing.” 

“Not fast enough.” The archangel’s wings flared up in quiet fury. “And Sam did nothing to protect you.”

Alex lowered her gaze, words coming out in a low mutter. “He doesn’t like me without his soul.”

Lucifer reached up, cupping one of her cheeks, eyes searching her face. His voice was hesitant with his next thought, as if unsure what Alex’s answer was going to be. “I’m going to help you. I want to. Let my grace inside.” 

Alex nodded. “Of course.” 

“Stay still.” Lucifer moved up her body, knees resting in line with her hips. One hand propped itself up by her head, and the other rested on the open wound. His eyes closed, and Alex felt his grace push into him. She closed her eyes as the archangel slowly put her together, piece by piece. She felt muscles stitch themselves back together, and her lips twitched in discomfort at the strange sensation. 

Then the archangel pulled back. “I’m leaving more of my grace inside you,” he murmured. Before Alex could respond, he added, “For your benefit only. This will help your grace recover as you finish healing. I can remove it when you’ve healed completely.” 

“Thank you.” Alex rested her hand on his. “It feels better already.” 

Lucifer nodded. He dipped his head, forehead resting against hers. “I’m sorry if I seemed forward earlier,” he murmured. “I’m always worried for your safety.” 

“I’m always fine.” Alex gently sat up. “I’m an angel, remember? I’m always safe.” 

Lucifer opened his mouth to respond, but he looked up instead. “You’re waking up.” He sighed, turning back to the young angel as the darkness started to pull her away. “Alex.” He uttered the three words Alex never thought she’d hear. “I love you.”

 

 _ **I** love you_. The words rang in her mind as Alex opened her eyes. She bit back a confused smile, slowly sitting up. ‘ _I love you?’ Did the devil really just say that?_ She looked down at her stomach, and this time let her smile show. The wound was almost healed; it had shrunken inwards, now only a few inches deep. Alex gently traced the perimeter with a finger. “Good.”

“Sam told me what happened.” 

Alex looked up at Castiel’s voice. “Cas.” Her smile grew, wings stretching out towards her angel, shoving away all thoughts of Lucifer. “You’re here.” 

Castiel sat down on the bed beside her. “You’re looking well. It’s healed fast.” 

Alex shrugged, glancing away. “Lucifer helped,” she mumbled. “Used his grace to heal me.” 

The seraphim didn’t respond for a few seconds, and Alex felt his grace pushing against hers, slipping and sliding against the tendrils. “He left more in you.”

“He said it would help me heal faster,” the young angel insisted. “I swear I didn’t —”

“I’m not mad. That’s good what he’s done.” He reached up and touched Alex between the eyes. Alex felt his grace rush through her head, pumping through her veins. Something snapped, and then Castiel pulled back. “There. He’s gone.”

“Wait. W-What?” Alex shook her head, unable to comprehend what he was saying.”L-Like, gone gone? How?” 

“I shut him out,” the angel said simply. “The only reason he was there was to keep you stable.” A hand rested against her stomach. “And now his grace is there, keeping your heat at bay. Now there’s enough to keep you stable, long enough for me to win this war. He won’t be in your dreams any longer.”

A long pause. Then Alex whispered out, “Forever?” 

“Unless . . .” Castiel’s voice faltered for a second. “Unless you let him back in. His grace is still in you, so he can return if you want.”

Alex shook her head. “I don’t want him,” she insisted, also trying to reassure part of herself. “Thank you.” 

“Be careful around other angels,” Castiel said quietly. “You still might feel drawn to them. But his grace should help suppress it.”

“Your serious about him being gone.” Alex stubbornly pushed away the sense of loss. “I just, this feels like some sort of _deus ex machina_ shit, you know? Kinda too good to be true.”

“It’s true.” Castiel held out his hand, and Alex took it, moving closer. “He won’t bother you anymore, _le pas enay_ ,” he murmured. His wings folded down, and he pressed a gentle kiss the top of her head. “I love you.”


	7. Caged Heat

**October 29th, 2011**

**Sioux Falls, South Dakota**

**“I** told you. I don’t know anything about —” The girl cut off, grey eyes wide. Blood stained her blonde hair, slowly dripping down her face. Her wrists and ankles were tied to a rickety wooden chair. She looked like Alex in all respects. All except one.

Alex walked towards the shifter, black-and-gold wings flicking in anger and annoyance. She studied the silver knife in her hand, mindlessly running her finger down the blade. “Sorry. But your exceptional good looks aren’t going to buy you any mercy.” She circled around the shifter, rolling her head to crack her neck. She pushed her grace against the creature for a brief second, watching as it stiffened. “I suggest you talk,” she continued, moving back towards the wooden table. It had been over a month since Indiana, and she had spent most of that time up at Bobby’s after being shipped back up to heal. No news from the Winchesters. Not yet.

She felt the shifter’s gaze on her, but it didn’t say a word. Alex ran her hand over the variety of weapons, lips twitching into a deep frown the shifter couldn’t see. This was by far her least favorite part of being a hunter. She could handle the blood, the killing, the long nights in the car. But torture? Her wings ruffled in annoyance as the shifter spat on the ground, and her fingers tightened on the silver knife. Part of her wanted to put the filthy creature out of it’s miserable life — She flattened her feathers back down, regaining control. This was important. Bobby said so.

“Look,” the shifter finally said. “It’s the alpha. I’ve never seen him. It’s not like I can just give him a call.”

“I happen to know you can.” Alex leaned against the table, studying the shifter, blue-grey eyes narrowed. Did she really look like that? Ugh.

“You’re wrong.”

“My sources are impeccable. You’re old; one of the firstborns. You’re not really pulling off this dumb blonde act.” She looked down at the silver knife in her hands. “I don’t think you appreciate how much time I’ve spent finding you —”

Footsteps on the stairs cut her off. Alex looked up to see Bobby approaching. “Did I miss much?” he asked gruffly.

“Still won’t talk.” Alex walked closer the old hunter, dropping her voice. “Why are we trying to find the alpha anyways? What’s so important about him?”

“Nothing. But word’s out that Crowley’s got him. Find the alpha —”

“Find Crowley.”

“And get Sam’s soul back.” Bobby moved towards the table. “The Winchesters are upstairs. They’re asking about you.”

“Really?” Alex pushed her grace out, purposefully avoiding the taint of the shifter in the room. She felt Dean — his soul, maybe. She wasn’t sure how it all worked — and smiled. “Do they need me?”

“Dunno. They got a rougarou out back. Another one for the King of Hell, I guess.”

“Huh.” Alex glanced over at the shifter, who was watching her defiantly. She let her angel blade slip into her hands, and held it out. “Here.” She stared at the shifter with narrowed eyes. “Stings like a bitch for ‘em.” Then she slowly started walking up the stairs. A loud scream had her jumping up the rest. “Dean?”

“Hey, Pip.” Dean was standing in the kitchen, beer in hand. “How are you doing?”

“I’m fine.” The young angel shrugged. “How about you?” She looked around. “Where’s Sam —” Another scream cut her off.

Dean tipped his head. “Whatcha got down there?”

“Shifter.” Alex ran a hand through her hair. “We’re trying to get the location of the alpha. Word’s got it that Crowley has him, so, find the alpha, find the demon. Then get that soulless son of a bitch to put Sam back together again.”

“You think the shifter knows where Crowley took him?” Dean seemed surprised.

Alex shrugged. “I don’t know,” she finally admitted. “This isn’t the first shifter we’ve burned through. The last one said that this guy followed the demons who, uh — they like, stole a whole bunch of shifter babies or something — this guy supposedly tracked the demons back to where Crowley kept him.” She looked up at Dean. “It’s the best thing we’ve got.” She brushed hair out of her face, wincing she saw how Dean stiffened in alarm. “It’s nothing,” she started.

“What the hell happened?” Dean swooped forward, one hand stabilizing itself on her shoulder, the other coming up to trace the long thin scab that traced its way across her forehead.

Alex knocked his hand away. “Hayley stopped by last night. Drunk and pissed as always. It was . . . I don’t even know what she threw. Point is, I’m fine, and she’s in a _lot_ worse shape.” Seeing Dean’s face, she added, “I got a little pissed, and she’ll be out of ICU in a day or so.”

“And where was Bobby?”

“Supply run. He’s the one who shot her.” Alex shrugged, removing herself from Dean’s gaze. “It’ll be healed in another twelve hours or so. Perks of being an angel.”

The hunter nodded. “So you beat her up. Good for you.”

Alex laughed scoffingly. “We have such messed up morals. Usually beating someone within an inch of their life isn’t ‘good for you’ worthy.”

Dean grunted in agreement. “Sam’s out back,” he added, changing the subject. “We’ve got a rougarou.”

“For Crowley.”

The look on Dean’s face said it all. “If you’re up for it, you’re welcome back. Sooner or later, he’ll show his face.” He finished off his beer, dropping the empty bottle on the counter. “And an angel on our side sounds like a pretty damn good idea.”

Alex nodded. “Sure thing. I’ll pack.” She moved off towards the stairs.

 

 **T** en hours later Alex sat beside a brick fireplace, her journal and gun laying on the ground beside her. The sky was growing dark, and the Winchesters were off at their drop-off with Crowley. It wasn't a bad house; there was a generator in the basement, and a small tv in the corner by an old couch. The kitchen was still somewhat furnished with tables and chairs; the only thing the house was missing was beds, which Alex found extremely amusing. It wasn’t her problem, though; she had already claimed the couch.

The door swung open, and Dean walked through. “No, man, screw it. I’m done.”

Sam followed close behind. “Calm down.”

“What’s wrong?” Alex stood up, eyes narrowed in confusion.

“We’ve been going on these freaking Crowley runs and it’s getting us nowhere.”

“He wasn’t there?” The young angel blinked. “What did you do with the rougarou then?”

“He sent his demon bitches to meet us instead.”

“Dean—” Sam started.

“I mean, the only thing that’s really changed is now I need a daily rape shower!”

“Okay, you’re right.” Sam held up his hands in surrender. “Let’s go with Plan B. Oh yeah, we don’t have one.” His face darkened again. “So till we do, sorry dude, but stock up on soap-on-a-rope.”

Dean let out an ill-amused huff, rolling his eyes at his brother’s humor.

Sam continued. “Dean, if you want to get my soul back, this is how we gotta do it, okay?”

“Yeah.” The hunter added, “You even want it back?”

A pause. Alex looked over at Sam, who after a second’s hesitation, rolled his shoulders back. “I’m working for _Crowley_ , aren’t I?”

Dean shrugged off his jacket and threw it onto the sofa, turning around and moving towards the fireplace. “Yeah, well, who say’s he’s going to hold up his end of the deal, you know? It is Crowley.” He picked up a half-empty whiskey bottle and poured himself a drink. “You ever think of that? Right?” He turned back around, then frowned.

Alex followed his gaze. Sam was gone. She instinctively and lazily pushed out her grace down the hall, trying to locate him. “Oh shit.”

“What?” Dean’s face immediately grew dark. “What is it?”

Alex’s angel blade slid into her hands. “Demons.” She turned to look at Dean; he was laying unconscious on the floor. “Dean!” A dark man stood over him, and she flared her wings out wide in intimidation. The demon moved towards her, and she spun her weapon in her hand, looking for a shot. Something moved behind her, brushing against her grace. Alex spun around. Then she was hit from behind, and she staggered. The world slipped away into darkness.

 

_**“W** hat’s the point of this?” Alex stood blindfolded in the room, practicing flicking out her grace. _

_“Stay still.” Balthazar’s voice sounded by her ear. “Wait till I tell you.”_

_“This is stupid.”_

_“You’re stupid.” Before Alex could respond, grace pushed against hers. “Ready. Reach out, and try and feel what’s in my hand.”_

_Alex did as he asked, blindly groping for the angel. She felt his grace, and moved her way into his hand. Something sat there, small, flat. Warm. She gently pushed against it. “What is it?”_

_“Silver.”_

_“Mm. Feels nice.”_

_“Other hand.”_

_Alex did so. “Fuck!” She pulled back, a shudder passing through her body and into her wings. “The hell is that?”_

_“Feel it again.”_

_“I don’t want to.” However the female angel reached out, lightly brushing her grace over it, suppressing another shiver._

_“It’s iron.”_

_“I hate it.”_  
  _“Stings like a bitch, doesn’t it?” The older angel chuckled. “Demons hate it even more than we do. Except it —”_

_“— physically hurts them,” Alex finished. “Hunter, remember?”_

_She heard the sound of his wings rustling. “Moving on. Guess what this is.”_

 

 **A** lex came back into consciousness. She was bound. Ropes. Around her chest, no less. Easy to break through. Alex kept her head hung, eyes closed and breathing shallow, resisting the temptation to let her grace move outwards.

A low, gruff voice, reached her ears. “I know you’re awake.”

Alex reluctantly raised her gaze. “The hell’d you hit me with?” she groaned, her head throbbing. A quick glance around proved that the two Winchesters were tied in a similar fashion, one on either side of the room.

In response, the demon motioned towards a heavy metal object laying on the ground.

Alex pushed her grace out towards it, recoiling with a wince. “Iron. Stings like a bitch, doesn’t it?” She tipped her head. “Must have hurt you pretty good too. How’d you manage?”

The demon didn't respond. He kept staring at Alex, angel blade in his hand.

Alex looked over at the Winchesters. “You sure they’re gonna come around?” She lifted her head, inhaling. “I smell blood. You bashed their heads in, didn’t you?” She pushed her grace towards Dean, hoping to try and heal him.

The demon growled. “Don’t.”

“You want them to wake up, don’t —” Alex immediately fell quiet as Dean stirred. He blinked, once, twice, then looked at Alex. She forced a smile. “Hey.”

“What the hell?”

“Demons.” At those words, Alex frowned. How had she been beaten by a low-life demon? Damn. She was getting slow.

“You got beat by a demon?”

Alex didn’t answer, eyes narrowed in confusion. “I-I don’t know.”

Sam stirred, then jolted awake. Dean looked over at him, then up at the demon by Alex’s side. “What now?”

Movement. Alex looked up, and her wings flared out wide. She started to get up, but an angel blade pushed against her neck immediately stopped her.

Sam’s gaze focused on the thing behind Dean. “I think I know who you can ask.”

Dean turned his head, and immediately shared in Alex’s disgust. “Evil bitch.”

Meg circled around the eldest Winchester, a smile on her face. “Keep sweet talking me, this could go a whole new direction.”

“Meg. I’ve been dying to see you again.”

“Well, here I am, big boy. So, what should we do now?” The demon stood in front of Dean, a small smile on her face.

“How about I rip you to shreds?”

“Kinky. I like. A little Q&A first, if you don’t mind. Where is your boss?”

“Boss?” Alex snorted. She cut off as the angel blade pushed even closer to her.

Sam picked up her thoughts. “You think we work for somebody?”

Meg turned on Sam. “I happen to know for a fact that you’ve been juggling Crowley’s orphans. Now where is he?”

“Don’t know, don’t care.”

“You’ve been working his beat for months.”

“Doesn’t mean we get face time.”

Meg looked over at the demon; he stared down at Sam. Alex shifted uncomfortably. Meg turned back to Dean. She put a hand on his shoulder, then straddled his lap, looking into the hunter’s eyes. “Where’s he taking all those things you snatch up?” she asked, voice playful. “I bet you an all-day sucker that that’s where his majesty’s holed up.” When Dean didn’t respond, she suddenly pulled out the demon knife, holding it against the his throat. Her voice grew dark. “Alright, foreplay’s over. Satisfy me or I please myself.”

Sam actually laughed. Alex glared at him, and Dean looked past the demon. “Something funny, Sam?” he asked, voice cracking slightly with displeasure.

“Yeah. Meg.”

“Really? Cause where I’m sitting . . .”

“Don’t worry. She can’t do jack shit. She’t totally screwed.”

“Sam, not helping!”

“Look at her, Dean. She’s furious. If she could kill you, she would have done so already. She’s running.”

Meg leaned her head back to look up at the ceiling. “Am I?” She turned to look at Sam.

“Judging by the level of flop sweat on you, yeah.” Meg got off of Dean and moved towards Sam. The hunter continued, unperturbed. “Which means you’re running from Crowley. Which makes sense. Crowley would want to hunt down all the Lucifer loyalists now that he’s the big man on campus.”

“How would you know?”

“It’s what I’d do.” He looked over at Dean. “She can’t kill us,” he said confidently. “She needs us to get her to Crowley so she can stick that knife in his neck. It’s him or her.”

“Well, I hope you both lose,” Dean said dryly. “But good luck.”

Meg got off of Dean. “Maybe I do need you two alive,” she conceded. “But not her.” She glanced over at Alex.

“Me?” Alex let out a huff. “What do you have against me? Apart from the whole angel thing, of course.”

Meg walked over to her. “You remind me too much of Crowley,” she told her, demon-killing knife pointed towards her chest. “I’d much rather get rid of you.”

Alex defiantly held her gaze. “What?” she snorted. “You gonna kill me with _that_ thing?”

“Wasn’t my plan, no.” Meg pocketed the knife, leaning over the angel. “I was thinking more along the lines of this.” She grabbed the angel blade and plunged it into her shoulder.

The room lit up with a blue light as Alex’s grace protested, pushing back against the demon, sending her stumbling back. Alex threw her head back against the chair, eyes wide, a scream that she hadn’t realized had come out dying in the back of her throat. Her head fell forward in pain, gasping out a litany of Enochian curses she didn’t know she knew.

“Work with us,” Sam quickly said.

“Whoa, what?” Dean looked incredulously over at his brother.

“She just _stabbed_ Alex.”

“So you want to make a deal with her?” Dean shook his head. “I thought you didn’t even care about her.”

“Yeah, well, you do.” Sam looked over at Meg. “We’ll hand you Crowley with a bow. Only one condition: we come with you and you help us wring a little something out of him before you hack him to bits.”

Meg seemed interested. “What?”

“Doesn’t matter. Question is, can you get us what we need?”

Meg walked over to Sam, looking down at the soulless hunter. “I apprenticed under Alistair in Hell just like your brother. So Dean, can I make Crowley do whatever I want?”

Dean scowled up at Meg for several seconds before answering. “Yeah, she can.”

“It’s a deal then. Hugs and puppies all around!” She walked past Dean and towards the door.

“You gonna untie us?” Dean yelled over his shoulder.

“Please.” The demon stopped, looking back. “Don’t pretend you don’t enjoy it.” Then she was out of sight.

The demon by Alex followed, stopping by Dean to stare at him darkly.

Dean met his gaze. “You gonna kiss me?”

“Come on!” Meg’s insistent voice had the demon hurrying away. The door slammed, the the house fell quiet.

Alex let out a groan, grace breaking the ropes as she stood up. “Fuck her,” she muttered.

“Language.”

“And fuck you.” Alex walked over to Dean. She touched the ropes that bound him to the chair, and they fell off. “I was just _stabbed_ , so excuse me if I’m a little pissed.” She walked over to Sam, poking him none too gently in the stomach. His bonds fell to the ground. Turning her attention to herself, Alex peeled back her shirt to see a bloody hole in the very top of her shoulder. It was bleeding quite heavily, but didn’t seem to be too deep.

“Let’s take a look at that.” Dean moved up behind her, worry dark on his face.

Alex let him see. “It’s not that bad,” she promised. “Should heal in a few days.” She shrugged, then winced. “I’ve had a lot worse.”

“Not with an angel blade.” Dean nudged her towards the main living room. “Go sit down. I’m gonna stitch that up.”

Alex nodded, hurrying off to sit on the couch. She stripped off her shirt, wings folding tightly around her in the chilly air.

 

 **W** ithin ten minutes Dean was almost done. As he tied off the last bit of fishing line, Sam handed her a glass of whiskey. “From the way you screamed, I thought she had almost killed you,” he commented casually.

“Thanks.” Alex took a long sip. “It shocked me, okay? I didn’t expect her to fucking stab—” She cut off as Dean gently smacked her across the back of the head as he stood up. Alex rolled her eyes. “I’m not fifteen anymore,” she shot back. “Hell, I’m twenty one.” Dean ignored her and walked over towards the small kitchen. “Bobby lets me swear,” she added under her breath.

Dean heard her. “Do I _look_ like Bobby?” he joked before motioning for Sam to follow him, lowering his voice. “What are you doing?” he snapped.

“W-What do you mean?” Sam looked over at Alex, confused. “I didn’t—” Then he blinked. “Oh. Dean, you wanted to screw over Crowley. Merry Christmas.” Seeing his brother’s face, he added, “What?”

“You wanna work with a demon again?”

“We’re working with demons now. I’m doing this cause I want to stop.”

“You know, you don’t need to talk all the way over there!” Alex leaned her head back against the couch to see them. “I think this kind of involves me too!”

“She killed Ellen and Jo!” Dean snapped over Alex, ignoring the young angel.

“I know. But you can’t look at this emotionally, Dean. We need her.”

“The hell we do! That little bitch is going to screw us over so fast —”

“Of course,” Sam agreed, “which is why we screw them over first. Meg and her little posse are dead the second we’re done with them.”

“Yeah, if they don’t kill us.”

“They won’t.” Sam moved towards the front door. “Cause we’re bringing insurance.”

“What?”

“Castiel.” Then Sam was gone.

Alex stood up and pulled on her shirt and jacket, following Sam. She shivered at the cold air, drawing her wings in close. She stopped hidden behind the bushes, watching the hunter.

Sam stood in the middle of the dirt road, eyes focused upwards. “Castiel, we need you,” be began. “It’s important.” Nothing. Alex moved to step forward, but Sam cleared his throat and continued. “Cas, we found something. It’s this gold box. Apparently Nazis were after it back in the day, someone opened it and their faces melted off. I think it’s — ready for this? — the Ark of the Covenant. Yeah.” Sam looked around. “So . . .”

“I’m here, Sam.” Castiel landed behind the hunter. “Where’s the box?”

Alex laughed, and Sam snorted in amusement. “I can’t believe you fell for that. That was the plot for Raiders, idiot.”

Castiel’s wings flared out in anger, but his voice only held a trace of his fury. “I’m mid-battle, Sam.”

“I could give a rat’s ass about your little pissing match with Raphael.”

“Listen to me, Sam —”

“No, you listen! I don’t care what you’re dealing with up in heaven. You owe me.”

 _Owe him?_ Alex narrowed her eyes in confusion. _Owe him for what?_

“You may not care, but believe me —”

“I’m sorry, do you think we’re hear to talk this out?”

“Sam, I can’t just —”

Sam stared down at the angel. “If you don’t help us, I will hunt you down and kill you.”

Castiel’s whole demeanor changed, anger rising to a level Alex had never seen. His wings flared out wide, and grace crackled through the air. For the first time in a long time, Alex was reminded of how truly old and powerful he really was. He stepped closer to Sam, staring up into the hunter’s face. “Will you, _boy_?” he challenged, voice low and dangerously quiet. “How?”

Sam didn’t back down. “I don’t know yet. But I will look until I find out, and I don’t sleep.”

Castiel shook his head. “You need help, Sam.”

“I need your help.”

The two stared at each other, neither backing down. Alex’s wings unconsciously twitched in intimidation.

Castiel’s head spun towards her. “Alex.” His voice was soft, the anger disappearing. “I know you’re there.”

Alex stepped out, eyes and wings low. “How long?” she asked quietly.

The angel stepped towards her, wings folding down around her back. “I always know when you’re near.” His voice dropped so Sam couldn’t hear. “What’s going on?”

“Crowley.” Alex’s eyes fell closed. “Sam . . . he wasn’t lying. This is kind of important. I know you’re busy,” she quickly added. “If you really need to go back, I can do this alone.”

“You?” The angel’s eyes narrowed worriedly, and his voice grew displeased. “What exactly are you doing to do alone?”

“Oh, the usual.” Alex’s lips turned upwards in a small smile. “Protect the Winchesters from every freaking demon on the planet.”

Castiel searched her face. “I’ll stay.”

“You don’t need to stay,” Alex insisted. “I didn’t literally mean every demon. Just like, ten. Or twenty. Not really sure.”

“I’m staying.” Castiel brushed past her towards the house they were staying in. “You’re not strong enough to take on that many demons.”

“I’m perfectly strong enough,” Alex snapped, irritated that once again, Castiel was implying she was too weak take care of herself.

“You couldn’t even take on two of them,” Sam scoffed.

“They took me by surprise!”

“They stabbed you with your own weapon.”

Castiel immediately spun around, wings flared up in anger. “They did _what_?” His grace pushed insistently against her, finding the wound on her shoulder.

“It’s nothing.” Alex pushed his grace away with her own. “I screwed up, okay? It won’t happen again.”

“They could have _killed_ you.”

“Well, they purposely didn’t!” Alex’s wings flared up in agitation, falling immediately to her back as she stalked back into the abandoned house.

Castiel followed. Dean looked up in surprise as they entered. “You actually showed. Wow, Sam, I owe you a chicken dinner. What happened?”

“No big. This is what friends are for.”

Alex plopped down on the sofa, arms crossed. She felt Castiel standing behind her, grace flickering every so often in annoyance. “What is it you need?” he asked, voice crosser then he probably intended.

“We need you to find Crowley.”

Castiel was quiet for a few seconds, and Alex heard a frustrated breath leave his body. “Fine,” he finally consented. “We’ll need a few things.” Then he was gone.

The couch dipped, and Alex stared at her hands.

“You know,” Dean began casually. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you this pissed at him.” When Alex didn’t respond, he prompted, “What happened?”

“It’s stupid,” the young angel snapped. “He treats me like I . . . like I’m fucking fragile or something. He doesn’t think I can take care of myself.” Dean didn’t answer, and she looked over at him. “Seriously? You know I could probably beat your ass.”

Dean shrugged. “No, no, I get it. I just — I see where Cas is coming from, okay?” Alex let an angry huff, and the hunter hesitated before speaking once again. “I wouldn’t let Lisa hunt.”

“That’s _different_. Lisa’s not a hunter. I am. And I’m an _angel_ , no less.”

“I’m just saying I get it. Even if Lis was the best damn hunter in the world, I wouldn’t let her hunt, you know?” Dean glanced over at Alex. “I guess that’s what you do when you love someone. Keep them safe.”

Alex let out a small sigh, dropping her gaze back to her lap. “I know,” she finally relented. “I get that he’s trying to protect me. I just . . . I wish he wouldn’t make me feel so useless.”

The flutter of wings announced the arrival of Cas, and the end of their conversation. Dean stood up to help the angel, and Alex leaned back against the couch, closing her eyes.

 

 **T** he couch dipped, but Alex didn’t open her eyes. She felt wings brush gently against hers as a hand came to rest on her shoulder. She winced. “Let me see,” a soft voice commanded.

Alex hesitated, then pulled the collar of her t-shirt aside for the seraphim to examine. She winced again as the skin of his fingers pushed against it, and Castiel immediately pulled back, this time gently brushing his fingers over the wound. “I’m okay,” Alex promised. She finally opened her eyes to look at the stitches. It was already healing well, and Alex expected the stitches to be out within the next day or two.

Castiel let out a soft breath, leaning in closer. “I wish I could be with you all the time,” he murmured, eyes still focused on her shoulder. “It seems like every time we meet, you’ve hurt yourself again.”

“I guess we’ve had a run of bad luck then,” she teased. “The only times I get hurt are the times you show up.” She let out a soft smile at her next thought. “Maybe I should get hurt more often. It seems to get you to come around.”

The look in the angel’s eyes told her he didn’t find it funny.

Alex changed the subject. “How’d the thing go? Did you find Crowley?”

Castiel shook his head. “He’s hidden from me. I cannot find him.”

“Oh. Great.” Alex shifted, leaning against Castiel. His wings folded down and around her, and she sighed. “Now what?”

“Dean and Sam are going to Samuel. They seem to believe that he would know Crowley’s location.”

“Makes sense.” The female angel placed a hand on her mate’s chest to stabilize herself as he shifted slightly. “When are we leaving?”

“When they finish gathering what they need. We’ll be back in an hour.”

“Wait wait wait. _We’ll_? That includes me too, right?”

“You’re staying here. Alex.” Castiel wings folded closer to her in concern. “You need to stay here and focus on healing. If we are going up against Crowley, I need you recovered. The Winchesters and I can find what needs to be found; your energy needs to be focused. Besides, _le enay_ , we need you to make sure the demons don’t come back.”

Alex sighed. If this was Cas’ attempt to make her feel useful . . . what the hell. She’d take it. “Okay,” she agreed, looking up into his worried eyes. “Do . . . do you think I’ll be healed completely before we leave?”

“You have an archangel’s grace in you. If you rest, you’ll heal before the sun rises.” Castiel dipped his head, brushing a chaste kiss across her lips before pulling back half a second before Dean entered the room.

“You ready?” he asked, eyeing the two of them before focusing solely on Cas.

“Whenever you are.” Castiel stood up. “Where’s Sam?”

“Here.” Sam stepped out from behind Dean. His cold eyes found Alex’s, and she shot him a half-smile of acknowledgement.

“Good.” Castiel reached out, taking both Winchesters by the shoulders. His wings flared out, then pushed down. Then they were gone.

Alex settled down into the worn couch, pushing her grace out towards the fireplace. With a quick twist and snap, flames leapt from the wood, lighting the darkened room.

 

 **T** wenty three hours passed. The Winchesters had long returned, and were now seated at the wooden kitchen table. Alex sat beside Sam, staring blankly at a open book. The words swam like minnows on the page, and no matter how hard she blinked, they didn’t go away. “There’s nothing here,” she finally announced, pushing the book away and letting her head fall to the table. She rolled her shoulder, feeling the slight tug of the stitches pull on her skin, and made a mental note to have Sam remove them before they left. The wound had healed substantially, and was now little more than jagged line.

The small tv hummed incessantly, and a quick glance to her left showed Castiel sitting on the couch, leaning forward and staring at the screen. His face was twisted into one of confusion, and Alex smiled to herself, looking back down at her empty glass.

Then Castiel spoke. “It’s very complex.”

“Hm-hmm,” Dean mindlessly agreed, turning the page in his journal.

Castiel continued. “If the pizza man truly loves this babysitter, why does he keep slapping her rear? Perhaps she’s done something wrong.”

 _Wait. What?_ Alex looked up sharply. A quick glance to her left showed the Winchesters just as nonplussed as she was. “Are watching porn?” she asked, staring at her mate.

“Why?” Dean added.

“It was there.” Castiel’s eyes didn’t leave the screen. Moans came from the tv, and Alex blushed, shaking her head.

“You don’t watch porn in a room full of dudes,” Dean insisted. Alex cleared her throat, and he added, “And, um, people. And you don’t talk about it. Just turn it off.”

However, Castiel didn’t move. His eyes left the screen and travelled to his lap, face perplexed.

“Oh.” Dean looked at Sam in disbelief. “Now he’s got a boner.”

“Great,” Alex snorted.

“You wanna go help him with it?”

“M-Me?” Alex looked over at Sam, blushing. “Why me?”

“You’re his mate.”

“S-So? You go help him. Dudes help dudes.”

“I think mate trumps friend on this one —”

“Stop. Just, stop.” Dean cut them off. “Really? _Really_?” A knock on the door had him standing up and drawing his gun. “Just, drop it, okay?” He unlocked the wooden door and stepped back in surprise.

Samuel pushed his way in. His eyes traveled across the room and came to stop on Castiel. “Is this what you boys do, sit around watching pornos all day with angels?”

“We’re not suppose to talk about it.” Castiel continued staring at the screen.

Sam stood up and turned off the tv before facing the older hunter, leaving Alex at the table by herself. “Why are you here, Samuel?” Dean asked coldly.

“It’s what Mary would want.”

Alex’s lips twitched into a frown. She had heard about the Winchesters’ encounter with Samuel last night, how Samuel had refused to help them find Crowley because the demon had promised him his daughter back. However, it seemed like he had changed his mind.

The old man continued. “Now. This is what I know.” He held out what Alex assumed was a map, but from where she was sitting couldn’t be sure. “Whatever we bag ends up here.”

Dean took the map and studied it for a few seconds.

“That’s where he tortures ‘em, interrogates ‘em, I don’t really know. Only been outside the place, but it’s a death trap. Nothing gets in that Crowley doesn’t want in, and nothing gets out. Period.”

“Well, thanks.”

“I wish you wouldn’t do this.”

“Come with us,” Sam offered.

Samuel shook his head. “I may be soft, but I’m not suicidal.” With that, he turned on his heels and left the house, door closing gently behind him.

Dean returned to the table, dropping the map on top of all of their work. Alex pulled it close, examining the location in the red circle. “That’s . . .”

“A prison. Yeah.” Dean sat down.

Castiel shifted in his seat, gaze still focused on the screen.

“Dude.” Alex’s voice had his head turning towards her. “You better not be still watching that.”

“I’m not,” Castiel responded truthfully, eyes squinting in confusion as to why she would even suggest that. He turned his gaze back to the empty screen.

Alex rolled her eyes with a small shake of her head. Angels.

“Things not going well in the bedroom?” Sam joked quietly, sitting down back in his chair.

“Cute.”

“I’m just saying —” Alex reached out with her grace and tugged on his hair. Sam’s hand flew up to his hair. “Ow!”

The young angel snorted in amusement, quickly getting up and joining Castiel before the hunter could exact his revenge. She curled up at his side, head resting on his shoulder. “What’s up with you?” she teased. “You’ve been hard before.”

“I was surprised,” the angel explained quietly, thankfully understanding that she was whispering for a reason. “Usually I can control it.”

“Okie dokie.” Alex nuzzled further into his coat, looking for a comfortable place to take a quick nap. “Don’t let Sam pull my hair,” she mumbled, eyes drifting close.

Wings folded down and around her, keeping her safe. “Of course.”

 

 **S** he was being shaken awake. Alex groaned, wiggling further into the warmth below her in protest. “Leave me alone,” she whined.

“Get up. Meg’s on her way.”

 _That_ woke her up. Alex sat up, eyes narrowed in confusion and accusation. “You’re bringing that bitch back here?”

“We’re working with her, remember?” Dean’s voice told her he like it as much as she did. “Come on.”

Alex stood up, letting Castiel get up as well. “Meg?” he asked, very much perplexed.

“Yup. Come on.” Dean left the house.

Alex ran her hand through her hair, trying to calm it down. She pulled into a loose ponytail as she studied the angel. “Sorry.”

“It’s nothing.” Castiel ran a light hand down his trench coat, smoothing out the wrinkles. “It was my fault for trying to get up before you were awake.”

Alex smiled. “I guess even when I’m sleeping I don’t want you to leave,” she joked before leading the way out the door. The night air was chilly, and she shivered, drawing her wings in tight. Large, warm feathers pressed against her back her, and Alex let out a soft breath of thanks to Castiel. The faint yet intentional twitch of his wings told her he understood.

Meg stood with her arms crossed, three demons at her side. Her eyes lit up in recognition at the sight of Castiel. “Remember me?” she asked as he approached. “I sure remember you, Clarence.”

Castiel’s wings left her shoulders to ruffle out in distrust. “Why are we working with these . . . _abominations_?” he growled, eyes flickering over the demons.

“Keep talking dirty,” Meg quipped sultrily. “Makes my meatsuit all dewy.”

Alex wrinkled her nose in disgust. Dean shared her abhorrence. “Alright, simmer down.” He stopped in front of Meg. “We know where Crowley is.”

“Great. Do tell.”

“Yeah, tell you, so you can just leave us for dead.” Sam stepped forward to join his brother.

“You boys have serious abandonment issues, you know that?”

Alex decided she hated Meg’s voice.

“We’ll show you, alright? But we’re all going together.”

“What? I’m just suppose to trust you?”

“No, you’re not that stupid.” Sam held out his hand. “Give me the knife for a minute.”

“No. I’m not that stupid.”

Sam frowned at the demon’s petulant behavior. “Do you want us to take you to Crowley or not?”

With a roll of her eyes, the demon reached into her jacket and pulled out the demon knife. She handed it to Sam, who studied it for only a second before plunging it into the chest of the nearest demon. Alex jumped, and the other demons moved towards Sam.

He immediately warded them off with the knife. “You saw him,” he insisted. “He was more interested in killing us than getting the job done. I just did all of us a favor.” With that, he turned around and stalked towards the Impala.

“Hey!” Meg yelled after him. “You just gonna keep that?”

Sam turned to face her. “You took this from us. I’m taking it back.” He put it in his jacket and walked away. “We leave in one hour.”

Alex watched him go, eyes wide. “He needs his soul back,” she whispered, only loud enough for Castiel to hear. The gentle touch of a wing on her shoulder told her she was right.

Meg stepped forward to leave, pausing in front of Castiel. She ran her eyes up and down the angel, then looked up into his face, one eyebrow cocked. Castiel stared back.

Alex raised her wings in jealousy at the demon’s outright flirting. She had half a mind to kill her right now, and her grace let her weapon slide slightly downwards towards her hand.

But Meg walked away, demons on her tail. Alex dropped her wings.

 

 **T** en minutes later, Alex was sitting on the couch, rolling up her clothes and packing them into her bag. Dean was at the table, starting to make progress on cleaning up all of their research. “You know, Cas, you could help,” he finally said.

Alex looked over to where her mate stood, staring out the window. “I’m ambivalent to what we are attempting,” was all he said.

“Well, breaking into monster Gitmo isn’t exactly a two-for-one in the champagne room,” Dean responded dryly, stopping what he was doing to stare at the angel.

“I’m not sure retrieving Sam’s soul is wise,” Castiel rephrased quietly.

Dean circled around the table and walked across the darkened room to stand in front of the angel. “Wait, what? Why?”

“I want him to survive.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Sam’s soul has been locked in the cage with Michael and Lucifer for more than a year. And they’ve had nothing to do but take their frustrations out on him.” Castiel looked down at Alex for confirmation.

She gave a small nod, studying her hands. “I begged him not to,” she mumbled.

The tip of Castiel’s wing brushed her arm as he continued. “Do you understand?” he asked Dean. “If we try to force that mutilated thing back down Sam’s gullet, we have no idea what might happen. It could be catastrophic.”

“You mean he dies.”

“I mean he doesn’t.” Emotion finally crept into the seraphim’s voice. “Paralysis. Insanity. Psychic pains so profound that he’s locked inside himself for the rest of his life.”  
 “But you’re saying you don’t know anything for sure,” Dean insisted. “I mean, he could be fine.”

“He could be, yes.”

“Okay then.”

“But I sincerely doubt it.”

Dean fell silent for a moment. He looked down at Alex. “What happens?”

“We get his soul back,” Alex said firmly, hoping she sounded more confident than she felt. “And we’ll deal with whatever happens from there.”

Dean nodded. He looked over at Cas. “If he’s not fine, then you fix him,” he told the angel.

Castiel shook his head. “Dean, I wouldn’t know where to begin.”

“Then you figure it out.” Dean’s voice grew short.”Come on. I mean, the guy’s a freaking replicant. He needs his soul. Look. We’ll get his soul back. And if there are complications, we’ll deal with those too.”  “Of course,” Castiel quietly agreed. As Dean turned away, he added, “Or we fail, and Sam suffers horribly.”

Alex flicked out her wing to gently catch the angel in the side.

Dean shook his head and picked up his bag. “Come on. We should go.”

 

 **T** he drive was long and quiet. Alex lay in the backseat, head in Castiel’s lap, eyes closed. The car rocked in a comforting motion, lulling her towards sleep. Light fingers moved tenderly through her wings, and the soft push of grace pushed against hers. In the front seat Sam and Dean talked in hushed voices, but Alex didn’t care to listen. Everything in her was focused on Castiel, letting him fill her senses until there was nothing else. No demons, no hunting, no pain. Just him.

 

 **T** he next thing she knew Sam was shaking her awake. “We’re here.”

 **A** lex sat up, blinking sleep out of her eyes. Castiel was gone, and she held back a disappointed whine. “Thanks,” she mumbled instead, climbing out of the car. She studied the structure in front of them. A large chainlink fence encircled the prison. Metal bars were on all the windows — only a few of which were lit — and a dilapidated watchtower loomed above the unkept prison yard. She looked up at the sky. “Sun’s gonna rise in the next hour,” she warned.

Dean nodded in agreement. “Probably sooner.” There was a flutter of wings, and then Castiel landed between her and Dean. The hunter turned his attention away from the building and onto the angel. “Seems pretty quiet.”

“It’s not,” Castiel promised darkly. “I can feel it.” At those words, Alex pushed her grace out, but it was blocked by Castiel. He held her back, refusing to let her reach out and touch. “Don’t,” he murmured quietly. Then he spoke for all to hear. “Meet me at the side door.” He flared his wings and took off into the sky.

Alex pushed her grace forward again, wanting to feel what Castiel felt. She pulled back immediately, wings pinning against her back at the overwhelming amount of fear and pain.

“Let’s go.” Meg’s voice had Alex turning around in confusion. She hadn’t even noticed the three demons who stood behind her, which made her all the more worried that she could be so careless.

Dean grunted in agreement, reluctant to follow the demon’s orders, even if he had been about to say the same thing himself. He and Sam took the lead, and Alex followed, angel blade slipping down into her hands, muscles tensed in preparation for a fight.

It never came. They followed the fence to a large gate that was slightly ajar. It creaked slightly as they pushed it open further, but there were no sign of any guards. They walked over to the building, where Castiel stood, door held open.

“This all seem a little to easy for you?” Dean muttered, stepping inside.

Sam agreed. “Way too easy.”

Once again the Winchesters took the lead. Castiel and Alex followed right behind, and the demons took up the rear. They turned down a darkened hall, and Alex immediately pulled her wings and grace in tight. In the split second she had allowed it to flicker outwards, she had felt dozens of creatures, all in pain. Castiel walked closer to her, wing brushing against hers every so often in a silent gesture of comfort.

The hall was lined with cells, and Alex could see as the flashlight’s flickered across the wall that each contained monsters. Shifters, werewolves, ghouls, djinn — a thud made her jump, and she saw Sam staring into a door, where a monster had its face pressed against the glass, snarling viciously.

“Is someone there?” A small female voice reached Alex’s ear, and she turned to see Dean staring into a cell. A djinn stood there, shackles around her wrists and ankles. A large iron collar hung around her neck. Her skin was pale in the light of Dean’s flashlight, her distinctive blue markings dull. “Please,” she begged. “Please help me. You gotta get me out of here! Please! You gotta get me out of here!”

“Come on, Dean.” Sam nudged his brother along. “We gotta move.”

Dean nodded, following after his brother.

 

 **T** hey turned several more corners, and still nothing. Sam and Dean turned off their flashlights as they reached a hallway that was lit. Alex hesitantly pushed out her grace. No sign of any demons, of any guards. With each passing second the tension grew, thickening the air. And then it broke.

A distant howl. Barking. Alex’s wings flared up in alarm, and she spun around. Castiel had already heard it. “Wait.” He commanded the Winchesters to stop.

Dean turned to look at the angels and demons, who were all staring down the hall. “What is it?” he asked, worry thickening his voice.

The barks and growls grew louder. “Dammit,” Meg said. “Here comes the guards.”

“Hellhounds,” Dean breathed. Then he moved forward. “Go!”

All seven of them broke into a run. Dean pushed open a set of double doors, and they followed through. Someone cried out from behind her, but Alex didn’t stop. The minute she was through, Dean slammed the door closed, and Sam pulled out a can of salt from his bag, laying a thick line across the hall. Alex did a quick headcount. Her, Cas, the Winchesters, and Meg. The sound of hellhounds growling and human screaming told her that the other two demons were still on the other side of that door. She jumped suddenly as the windows were sprayed with blood. “Fucking hell,” she muttered under her breath, trying to calm her nerves. She crossed over to where Dean was standing to peer out the window. Still no sign of any demons.

“I knew this was a trap,” Dean growled.

Meg looked up at him, unamused. “What do you want, a cupcake?”

Alex snorted in amusement. Demon or not, that was funny. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Sam finish securing the salt line. “Alright, that should keep them out.”

“Not for long.” Dean turned to Meg. “How many of them are there?”

“Lots. I’ll be pulling for you . . . from Cleveland.”

“What?”

“I didn’t know this was gonna happen. Bright side? Them chewing up my meatsuit ought to buy you a few seconds. Seacrest out.” Before any of them could stop her, she threw back her head, mouth open in a silent scream.

Nothing.

“A spell, I think, from Crowley,” Castiel finally told the confused demon. “Within these walls you’re locked inside your body.”

“Karma’s a bitch, bitch.”

Meg glared at Dean Winchester. Before she could respond, however, Sam pulled out the demon knife. Dean snorted. “What are you gonna do? Slash at thin air until you hit something?”

Sam held the knife out to Meg. “You can see them. Take this. Hold them off. It’s our best shot.”

“At Crowley.” The demon pushed the knife back into Sam’s chest. “Take it and go. You kill the smarmy dick. I’ll hold off the dogs.” As if to emphasis her point, there was a heavy thud on the door as the hellhounds tried to push their way in.

Alex snorted. “And how are you going to do that?”

In response, Meg reached up and wrapped an arm around Castiel’s neck. Then she kissed him.

Black feathers flared up in anger with such a force they hit the back wall. The rest of Alex still hadn’t caught up to what was happing, and for several seconds she just stared, shocked and frozen with jealousy.

The demon pulled back, but Castiel grabbed her by the arms, spinning her around and pinning her against the wall. Then he kissed her back.

By this point, Alex’s mind had fully caught up, and she surged forward, grabbing the angel by the collar of his coat and hauling him backwards. Her wings flared high in jealousy and possession, and she glared up into the seraphim’s eyes.

Confusion flashed across his face, then embarrassment. However, when Alex didn’t drop her wings, his own flared high too, and for several seconds, the angels were locked in a nonverbal standoff. Then Alex dropped her wings low in submission, still pissed, but much less willing to let this escalate into something else. However, she didn’t break eye contact, and she let out a small shake of her head. The whole conversation was over within five seconds, and the humans remained completely oblivious to the complex interactions.

“What was that?” Meg sounded shocked, and also a little bit dreamy. Alex’s wings flared wide again, only to lower when Castiel pushed his grace against her in warning.

“I . . . learned in from the pizza man,” he admitted almost sheepishly, eyes studying the ground. His wings dropped back to their neutral position, and, Alex noted with a huff, at least they had been that when when he had kissed the demon. Wings were the window to an angel’s emotions, after all.

She didn’t realize Meg was talking. “ — A plus for you,” she was saying. “I feel so . . . clean.” The demon smirked to see Alex’s wings flare up again. “Okay, gotta go.” She held up Castiel’s angel blade.

The angel looked surprised to say the least, and Alex inwardly smirked. Served him right.

“Whoa whoa.” Dean looked just as shocked. “Is that gonna work on a hellhound?”

“Well, we’re about to find out.” Meg looked down at the salt line; the constant movement from the door was wearing it thin. “Run.”

Without waiting for another word, Sam and Dean took off down the hall. Alex followed after Castiel. They rounded the corner, and the barking and howling faded into the distance.

The Winchesters took the lead, leaving Alex and Castiel to take up the rear. “The hell was that?” Alex snarled under her breath, only loud enough for Cas to hear.

The angel didn’t respond right away. “I’m sorry,” he finally murmured. “I . . . it slipped my mind that kissing was such an intimate term of endearment for humans.”

“Like hell it is!”

“Alex.” Castiel’s quiet voice made her lower her wings once again. “If you’re going to be mad at me, be mad at me. You have every right. But _don’t_ challenge my authority.”

“Sorry.” Alex pinned her wings against her back, careful not to let them flare up again by accident. Castiel was right. Flaring one’s wings out and rigid like that was not only a sign of strong possession and jealousy, but also placed a challenge if directed at another angels.

Castiel continued, voice low and gaze adverted. “I truly am sorry, however. Without a true physical form, it can be difficult to . . . remember that physical gestures have such meaning.”

Alex didn’t respond. With a sigh, she let her angel blade slip into her hands. “Here.” She handed the weapon to him begrudgingly. “You’re better with this than I am.” Right now wasn’t the time or the place to work this out.

The angel nodded, fingers brushing hers as they tightened around the handle.

“Cas!”

Castiel walked off ahead, leaving Alex to trail along behind. “This isn’t over,” she hissed after him. A twitch of the seraph’s wings acknowledged her words.

They went down a dark flight of stairs. “Can’t see jack shit,” Dean muttered under his breath.

Alex opened her mouth to point out that _she_ could still see perfectly well, but the words never left her mouth. Castiel exploded into a brilliant white flash of light, and Alex felt him fly past her. She felt something push straight through her grace, and she stumbled back. A large hand reached out to steady her.

“Cas?!” Alex heard Dean yell her mate’s name.

“Dean.” Sam’s voice was urgent. Dean spun around, and his flashlight illuminated a man. Alex flared her wings in anger. Samuel.

Samuel had his hand resting against the wall. When he pulled it away, Alex could see a bloody sigil.

Suddenly hands wrapped themselves around her waist, and Alex struggled violently. Two demons held her still, arms pinned against her side. She desperately pushed her grace out, but only excelled in making the demons angrier. Something clicked around her wrists, and Alex immediately felt her grace shrink back into her body.

“You sold us out?” Dean’s voice was cold with anger, and Alex saw that demons had grabbed the two Winchesters as well. “Damn you, Samuel.”

“Yes,” a voice agreed. Crowley stepped out of the shadows, eyes flickering over the three of them. “And I have to say, best purchase I’ve made since Dick Chaney.”

“Hiya, Crowley.” Dean let out a forced smile. “How’s tricks?”

“Above your pay grade. Been working. Big things. Alas, you’ll be too dead to participate.”

“Really?”

“Shame I’ll have to do away with you both,” the demon continued, speaking to the Winchesters. “Rather enjoyed your indentured servitude.”

He snapped his fingers, and Alex was dragged away. She struggled, but to no avail. “Dean!” She flared her wings, which actually did no good as they past straight through the demon’s meatsuit. They did, however, brush against the actual demon, and she drew them back with a shudder.

“Alex!” Dean’s voice was faint as the other demons took him and Sam off back up the stairs.

The demons dragged her down the hall. Alex gave up struggling, knowing it was useless. Even if she should escape it wouldn’t be for long. Not in this place.

They lead her into a cell, lit only by the waning moon, already stretching towards its horizon. One demon let go; Alex began struggling again. However, with her hands still bound in the cuffs, the demons managed to tether them to another chain, leaving her completely bound. They left, locking the cell door behind them.

Alex stared at the handcuffs, frustrated as to why her grace refused to touch them. She tugged on it; securely fastened. The angel slid to the ground, focusing on the lock, trying to force her grace towards it.

 

 **S** he wasn’t sure how long she sat staring at her bonds, probably longer than she thought. An hour, maybe. Maybe more. She vaguely noted that the sun had come up, and that her cell was well-lit, but it hardly registered in her forethoughts.

“It won’t work.” A familiar voice had Alex breaking her concentration. She looked up to see Crowley watching her, a ring of keys in one hand, a drink in the other. “Hello, kitten. Mind if I come in?” Alex still said nothing, and the demon entered the cell. “Enochian sigil,” he explained, gesturing towards her bonds. “Keeps your grace locked inside.”

“Speaking of,” Alex finally said, “how’d you do it? Get rid of Castiel and keep me here?”

The look on the demon’s face told her he was glad she had asked. “Special banishing sigil. Works on only male angels. Not as potent as the one you use, but effective in this circumstance.”

Silence.

“The hell do you want with me?” The angel’s voce cracked slightly, and she swallowed, already confident about the answer. “The hell do you want with me?” The angel’s voce cracked slightly, and she swallowed, already confident about the answer. She rolled her shoulders back, letting her anger seep into her soul. “You gonna sell me? You really want to go that again? You give me to some half-wit angel. I leave and come back to kick your ass.”

“I outwit you. Circle of life. Yes, I know.” Crowley waved her off. “It is rather repetitive. Oh well. Live and learn, as they say. Actually, I’m after something of a much more immense value.”

“So what then do you want from me?”

“Nothing that I need immediately. Although I will eventually want to know where Purgatory’s buried.”

“I don’t know where it is,” Alex insisted truthfully. She tugged on the handcuffs, but only accomplished in hurting herself.

“But you know about it.”

“I know nothing good can come from finding it.”

“Come on, Alex.” Crowley approached, crouching down in front of her. “We’re after the same thing here. We both want to help your mate.”

Alex snorted. “Yeah right. You only want to find Purgatory to secure your place as King of Hell.”

“It’s also in my best interest to keep Raphael from releasing Michael and Lucifer,” Crowley reminded, taking a small sip of his drink. “If Lucifer returns, chances are I’m not going to last long.”

“Tell me about it.”

Crowley tipped his head slightly, dark eyes studying her. “You know, we’re not that dissimilar, you and I.”

Alex’s wings fared up in anger. “We are _nothing_ alike,” she hissed.

“Is that so?” The demon’s lips pulled up into an amused smile.

“You’re a _demon_ ,” Alex spat. “You torture —”

“Don’t tell me you’ve done nothing similar.”

“Not for fun! I don’t like torturing people!”

“And why’s that?” Something sparked in the demons’ eyes. “Is it because you don’t like hurting them, or is it something else? Maybe you’re afraid, hmm? Afraid that one of these times you’re going to start, and you’re not going to stop?” Alex didn’t respond, and he smirked. “I can see it in your eyes. All the hurt, all the rage. It’s been boiling inside there far too long.”

Alex looked away, glaring at the far wall.

Crowley continued. “Shame you’re an angel. Otherwise I think you’d make for a very good apprentice under me. Might have even ended up as my heir.” He looked thoughtful for a moment. “I’d be a little hesitant about taking in an angel, but I suppose certain precautions could be taken. That anger . . . and that particular thing about knowing the future — that may be useful one day.” His gaze refocused on the female. “Well? What do you think?”

“I think you should go to hell,” Alex spat.

“Oh, I’m planning on it. Question is, are you coming —” The scream of the fire alarm cut the demon off. He looked up. “Hold that thought.” Crowley stood up and exited the cell. “Think long and hard about your answer, kitten. I’ll be right back.” He locked the door and walked away.

Alex pulled her wings in tighter, fire blazing in her grey eyes. Apprentice under the King of Hell? Alex would rather die. _You’d be the next Lucifer,_ a small voice said. _An angel ruling Hell? You’d be stronger and more powerful than you ever dreamed._ Alex chased the thoughts away with a snarl, then flinched as the animalistic noise echoed off the barren stone walls. “I’m not like him,” she insisted. “I’m not like any of them!”

 

 **I** t was Sam and Dean who found her. “Alex!” Dean dropped to his knees and started picking the lock.

Alex looked up to see Sam staring at her, soulless gaze burning into her hers. “What he offer you?”

“What?”

“Sam!”

“Crowley.” Sam ignored his brother. “What’d he offer you?   
The door swung open, and Dean hurried inside to free her. “It doesn’t matter, dammit.”

“I’m just curious.” Sam’s eyes narrowed in defense and confusion.

“He didn’t offer me anything,” Alex said tersely. “Why would you think that?” She rubbed her wrists as the handcuffs were removed.

“He said you were thinking about taking a deal he offered.”

“I wasn’t going to take it,” Alex snapped, grace flickering out as the metal collar fell away. She let out a surprised noise when the oldest Winchester suddenly pulled her close, arms wrapping tightly around her in a crushing hug.

“So he did offer you something.” Sam’s words had Dean pulling back.

“Maybe he did,” Alex growled defensively. “But it doesn’t matter, cause next time I see him, I’m gonna kill him.”

The Winchesters exchanged looks. “A little late for that,” Sam said. “He’s already dead.”

“Wait. What?” Alex followed them out into the hall.

“Yeah. Cas torched his bones. Good riddance, I’d say.” Dean led them up the stairs and towards the exit.

“You sure?” Alex narrowed her eyes. She was pretty sure he didn’t die in the show. She shook the thought off. As long as that bastard was dead. _But wasn’t Crowley working with Castiel to find Purgatory?_

“Good.” Castiel’s deep voice made her forget her thoughts. “You found her.” Grace pushed against her, hard with worry at first, but quickly melting into relief. “Unharmed.”

“I’m fine,” Alex promised. She followed the Winchesters out of the prison. “So. What’d I miss?”

“We’ll tell you in the car,” Dean promised, hurrying up the hill to stop by the Impala. Alex trailed behind, ignoring how Castiel crowded her back, wings curling worriedly around her. Sam threw his duffle bag into the trunk as the older Winchester turned to Castiel. “Thanks, Cas,” he began. “Hadn’t it been for you —”

“Crowley was right.” Castiel cut him off. “It’s not going well for me upstairs.”

“If there’s anything we can do —”

“There isn’t. I wish circumstances were different. Much of the time I”d rather be here.” Wings curled down around Alex, and she grunted in agreement.

Dean nodded. “Look, Cas, we know you got a steaming pile of shit on your plate. There’s no need for apologies. We’re your friends.”  
 Castiel turned to Sam Winchester, who closed the trunk and joined the conversation. “Listen, Sam, we’ll find another way.”

“You really want to help?” Sam looked over at the old building. “Prison full of monsters. Can’t just leave ‘em, can’t let ‘em go.”

“I understand.” Castiel took off back towards the prison, leaving Alex and the two Winchesters alone.

“He’s right, you know.” Dean turned to look at his brother.

“About?”

“About your soul. We’ll figure something out.”

“No, we won’t.”

“Why, because Crowley said —”

“You heard what Crowley said.”

“What did Crowley say?” Alex looked up at Sam.

“He said the same damn thing Cas told you. That putting that thing back in me would smash me to bits!”

Dean raised his voice. “We don’t know that for sure.”

“You know what? When an angel and a demon agree on something, call me nuts, I pay attention.”

“You say this now? After we practically died trying to —”

“Exactly! We almost got ourselves killed. I mean, how many times do we risk our asses for this? Enough’s enough.”

“Sam —”

“I don’t think I want it back.”

Silence.

“You don’t even know what you’re saying.”

“No, I’m saying something you don’t like. You obviously care. A lot. But I think I’m better off without it.”

“You’re wrong. You don’t know how wrong you are.”

“I’m not sure about that.” Sam shook his head and walked away.

“Sam! Don’t walk away!” Dean’s anger resonated throughout his voice. “Sam? Sam!”

The hunter didn’t turn back. Anger at his actions suddenly pulsed through Alex, and in a rash decision she reached out with her grace, wrapping it around his legs. The large hunter tripped, hitting the ground with an undignified thud. However, he shook it off, glaring back at Alex one more time before stalking away.

Alex looked up to see that Dean was looking down at her, doing his best not to be amused at what she had done. “He deserved it,” she snapped. Dean grunted noncommittally, although Alex was pretty sure he agreed. “The hell does he think he’s going?” She added. “We’re going after him, right?”

Dean shook his head. “Get in the car.”

Alex slid into the passenger seat. “Dean . . .”

“He just needs some time to cool down.”

“We’re miles from anywhere. You’re just gonna let him walk?”

“Hey.” Dean roughly started the car. “It was his choice, okay? He walked away from us, not the other way around.” The engine purred to life, and Dean drove them away.

 

 **I** t was fifteen minutes before Alex spoke again. “What happened back there?” she asked quietly, turning her head to look at the Winchester.

Dean cast her a quick glance before turning his gaze back to the road. “After me and Sam escaped from the ghouls —” he ignored Alex’s questioning noise, “— we found Meg. We lured Crowley to us by setting off the fire alarm, and Sam shoved him into the devil’s trap.” He went on, continuing to explain how Crowley had refused to go back for Sam’s soul, insisting that he had risked enough getting Sam’s body out. Meg had gone into to kill him, but Crowley overpowered her and broke the devil’s trap. That’s when Castiel had showed up and burned Crowley’s bones. “That son of a bitch went up in flames,” Dean finished. “End of story.” A slight pause before, “What happened to you?”

“Got thrown in a cell, chained up. Enochian sigils kept my grace bound in my body. He . . . asked where Purgatory was. I told him I didn't know. I honestly don’t,” she added. “I don’t think there’s an actual location. More of a . . . spell to open it anywhere or something. I don’t know. That was it, really.”

“And the deal?”

Alex glared out the window, fists clenched.

“Okay, okay. I get it.” Dean turned the Impala onto the interstate. “But you’re okay, right? I was . . . we were worried.”

Alex sighed, feeling some of her anger dissipate. “I’m fine,” she promised. “I can take care of myself.”

“Now what?”

“Crowley’s out of the picture, right? He was the only other one who could get Sam’s soul back.”

“He doesn’t want his soul back.” Alex was silenced by a look from Dean.

“He doesn’t know what he needs.” Dean switched lanes, speeding past an old pickup. “There’s only one other person that can help us.”

“D-Death?” Alex stared at the hunter. “You want to — how the hell are you gonna do that?”

“I might have an idea.”

 

 **A** lex watched the door close behind Dean Winchester, concern deeply etched in her face. “You’re sure this is a good idea?”

Bobby didn’t answer, and Alex sighed, reluctantly standing up. “Great. You think Sam’s on his way?”

“Should be. Said he would be.” Bobby walked into the kitchen, and the young angel shook her head as he added, “Hopefully that means he’ll be here.”

“Then again, dude’s got no soul. Nothing’s stopping him from running as far away as possible.”

Bobby returned to the study, a beer in one hand. He shook his head. “He wouldn’t do that. Soul or not, he’d rather fight then run with his tail between his legs.”

“Yeah.” Alex’s eyes flickered on the window behind her to see the Impala drive away. Dean was off to Cedar Rapids, Iowa, to see a Dr. Roberts. If Alex understood the plan correctly, the doctor was actually going to stop his heart, effectively killing him. It was one way to meet Death, she supposed. She only prayed it actually worked.

“He’ll be fine.”

“Let’s hope so.” Alex stood up. “I’ll be up in my room. Dollar if you need anything.”

“I still got that shifter in the basement. If you want —”

“No!” Alex’s wings pressed against her back. “No,” she repeated, this time much calmer. “You, uh, I’ll let you take care of him.”

The hunter’s lips tilted into a frown. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah. I’m fine.”

“If you say so.” Bobby set his drink on the desk and exited the room.

Alex followed, disappearing up the stairs. “I’m not a demon.”

 

 **A** lex stood in the middle of her room, wings twitching anxiously. “Cas?” she finally said. “Come here.”

“What?”

The angel spun around to see Castiel standing behind her, head tipped in curiosity. “So are we gonna talk about this whole ‘Meg’ thing or not?”

The angel’s gaze dropped to the ground, wings falling flat in embarrassment. “I’d rather we not,” he finally said. “I told you. Physical gestures of . . . of affection—”

“Cut the crap.” Alex folded her arms, wings flaring out, but not arched upwards. She didn’t want this to escalate yet. “You kiss me. You don’t kiss . . . I don’t know —- Dean.”

“She kissed _me_ first,” the seraph defended. “It seemed reciprocating the gesture was the right thing to do.”

“Well it’s not!” Alex’s anger flared up. “You know, I’ve put up with a lot of this shit, man. F-From this whole ‘angel’ thing t-to Crowley, to you letting that son of a bitch sell me—”

“What was I suppose to do?” Castiel stepped forward, wings flaring up.

Alex held his gaze, the anger pulsing through her refusing to let her own drop. “You could have, I don’t know, _killed_ him and let me go!”

“And then what? Have you stay with Bobby or Dean? Have whatever demon that takes over hunt you down? Not to mention all of Raphael’s men who know who you are scouring the Earth for you? You stayed with Balthazar because he was the only one I could trust with you.”

“Oh, and you don’t trust the Winchesters?”

“No.” The seraph’s wings fell slightly, ignoring how Alex raised hers higher in response. “Alex. I didn’t know what I was doing. I _still_ don’t know what I am doing. All I know is that every inch of my being is set on keeping you safe, which is nearly impossible with the war I am fighting. You are always on my mind, even in mid-battle, and I hear _every single time_ you cry out. Do you know what that does to me, knowing that you’re hurting?”

“But I’m fine, okay? I can take care of myself!”

“You have been stabbed twice while I’ve been away. _Twice_. If you were human, you would be dead by now.”

“Good!” Alex threw her arms up in defeat. “Maybe that would have been for the best, okay?” She saw the confusion across the angel’s face, but ignored it, letting her anger take hold. “My life has been one giant hellhole ever since I fell, okay? I-I mean, in the show, sure it seemed like crap, but here it’s impossible. Angels are dicks, hunters are — are crude, a-and rough — I mean, if they can’t kill it, they don’t know how to act around it, you know?” She angrily brushed away tears, fury bubbling in her chest. “I’m just tired of it all! I—I wish I could just wake up and be home! W-With my family. Not here! Anywhere but here. I wish none of this had happened at all!”

She looked up just in time to see confusion and hurt flash across the angel’s face. He took one step back, and then he was gone. Alex’s shoulders fell when she realize what she had said, anger disappearing. “Cas? Cas!” She ran a frustrated hand through her hair. “Cas, please! Come back.”

He didn’t.


	8. Appointment in Samara

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short little chapter. I'm finishing up my finals today, so yay for that.

**November 3rd, 2011**

**Sioux Falls, South Dakota**

**“Y** ou what?!”

Alex looked up from her book, glancing towards her bedroom door. Apparently Sam was here, and, by the sound of it, Dean was back as well. She discarded her paperback onto the nightstand and descended the stairs, grabbing her bag of half-price Halloween candy on the way down.

“Just hear me out.”

“I heard Cas and Crowley when they said it would either kill me or turn me into Jello, Dean!” Sam was standing toe to toe to his brother, face red. “I heard enough!”

“Death said he could put up a wall.” _Oh right_. Apparently Dean was back from his trip down to Chicago. One of John’s old friends said they could help him meet Death. Alex wasn’t really sure how it all worked.

Sam, however, seem much less interested in how Dean had figured this al out. “A wall?” he asked instead.

“Yes, yes, a wall that — basically — you won’t remember hell.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“For good? Like a cure?” Sam still sounded skeptical.

“No, not a cure. It — he said it could last a lifetime,” Dean insisted.

Any sign of hopefulness disappeared. “Great.” Sam circled around to the other side of his brother. “So we’re playing fast and loose with my life here, don’t you think, Dean?”

Alex slipped into the room, wings pulled in close, trying to avoid attention. She walked over to where Bobby was sitting on the couch, and sat down beside him. She fished a Snickers out of the bag, handing it to the hunter.

“I’m trying to save your life!” Dean spun around to face his brother, and his gaze flickered across her. “You — You heard what Alex said!”

“She didn’t say anything hopeful,” Sam snapped. “She said, ‘we’ll deal with it.’ I don’t know about you, but I don’t like the sound of that! It’s my life, Dean! My soul. And it sure as hell ain’t your head that’s gonna explode when this whole scheme of yours goes sideways!”

“Just curious.” Bobby finally entered the conversation, standing up. “I presume Death’s not doing this out of the goodness of his heart. So what’s your half of the deal?” Dean looked away, and Bobby frowned. “I’m sorry, I didn’t get that.”

“I have to wear the ring for a day,” Dean finally admitted.

“Why the hell would he want you to do that?” Alex tipped her head in confusion.

The hunter shrugged “Get his rocks off. I don’t know. But I’m doing it.”

Sam started moving towards the door, but Dean’s words stopped him. “Where are you going?”

Sam turned to look at his brother, voice losing all of the anger it had before. “Look, I hear you, okay? I just need a minute to wrap my head around it, alright?” And with that, he left. Alex heard the backdoor close.

Dean followed him. With a glance over his shoulder, he motioned for them to follow as well. Alex trailed after Bobby, not sure where they were going, but having a pretty good idea of what was going to happen.

She was right. Sam wove through the cars, obviously intent on something. Eventually he stopped, looking down. Dean stepped forward, reaching into his pocket. “Looking for this?” He held up Death’s ring.

Sam turned around, evidently surprised at seeing them. He had regained his composure within the second. “Just taking a walk.” He turned to go.

“Sam.” Dean’s voice had the hunter stopping. “I’m your brother.” Dean stepped forward, pocketing the ring. Alex and Bobby hung back, content at watching from a distance. “I’m not gonna let you get hurt. I know what I’m doing here.”

Sam looked down into his face. “What if you’re wrong?”

“I won’t let it go wrong,” Dean solemnly promised.

“Fine.”

“Fine? So, you’re —”

“So, I’m trusting you,” Sam nodded. “Barely.”

“You sure?”

“You’re the one with the compass, right? Just don’t mess it up.”

Dean nodded. “I won’t.” He turned and walked back past Alex and Bobby. His voice dropped very, very low. “Watch him,” he murmured in passing. Then he was gone.

Sam turned and walked away towards the house. Bobby followed after him. The three of them entered the house through the back door. “So, is this the part where you pull a gun on me and lock me in the panic room?” Sam asked scathingly.

Do I have to?” Bobby countered.

“No.” Sam shook his head, moving into the study. “Dean’s gotta do what he’s gotta do.”

“Guess we all do, kid.”

Alex slipped past Bobby and into the kitchen. She pulled open the fridge, staring blankly into the cold interior.

 

 **I** t was a half hour before Alex heard the door open. She glanced through the hallway to see Sam opening the front door. A glance to her right showed Bobby fast asleep on the couch.

The door closed, and, not sure what else to do, Alex stood up, glancing out the window to see Sam get into a rundown F-150. She pulled on her boots and grabbed the keys to her Marquis before running outside. The pickup was almost out of sight, and she jumped into the front seat, starting the engine. It spluttered briefly, then purred to life. After murmuring a soft word of praise to it, she pulled out into the Salvage Yard driveway.

 

 **S** he trailed Sam across town. She was staying far behind, even losing him once or twice. But her grace told her where the soulless man was.

She pulled the Marquis up alongside the F-150, glancing out the window at the abandoned warehouse. It had been a small manufacturing factory at one point, if she remembered correctly. But it had long since been forsaken.

She killed the engine and slipped towards the door, wings pinned tightly against her in suspense. The door was half open, just enough for her to slip through unnoticed. “Sam,” she murmured to herself. “What are you doing?”

Sam was in the middle of the building. Alex crept over to a stack of rotting wooden crates, peering around the far side to get a better view. Several bowls sat on the ground, and he was etching something out in white chalk. After a few seconds he rearranged the bowls so they sat in the four corners of the sigil, then took the larger bowl and placed it in front of him. He slipped a small piece of paper on top and stood up, lighting a match.

Alex immediately knew was he was doing, and drew her grace in close, knowing she was in trouble. It was an angel summoning ritual; whosever name was on that piece of paper was the angel he was bringing here. An angel would be able to sense her immediately if they tried.

The match fell into the bowl, smoke and sparked jumping up at the contact. Alex watched as a flash of amber feathers came down from the ceiling, landing on the platform high above Sam. “Sam. Winchester.” Balthazar looked down at the hunter, disbelief and annoyance evident in his eyes and wings. His wings flared up, and then he was standing behind Sam. The hunter spun around as the angel pulled his wings in. “This has better be good.” There was a slight pause as the two stared at each other before Balthazar continued. “Why, here’s one for the list of dumbest things ever. Summon the angel who wants to kill you.”

“Desperate times. I need your help, Balthazar.”

“Interesting,” the angel mused, walking in a broad circle to the other side of Sam, “Since last time we met, you wanted to — what was it?” He paused, still not facing the hunter. “Oh yes, yes — fry my wings ‘extra crispy.’ ”

“Well, that was a misunderstanding."

“Some misunderstanding!” The angel turned around, wings flaring up. Alex felt his grace pulse outwards in annoyance, and she shrunk away.

“I need some advice,” Sam continued quietly.

“Advice?”

“Angel advice.”

“Well, then, go ask your boyfriend.” Alex snickered in amusement at Balthazar’s words. Apparently not only was Cas her and Dean’s boyfriend, but also Sam’s as well. Then again, B seemed to think Cas was _everyone’s_ boyfriend at one time or another.

“ _Cas_ can’t help me.” Sam obviously didn't find it amusing. “I need to know if there’s a spell or a weapon, anything that can keep a soul out. Forever.”

Alex frowned in confusion, and slightly in interest. _Was there really a spell that could keep a soul out?_

“Ooh.” Balthazar seemed interested as well. “What’s going on, Sam?”

“It’s for me.”

“Well. The plot thickens. Where’s your soul, Sam?” Balthazar walked up to Sam, wings folding forward. “Good God, no. It’s not . . ? It is.” The angel’s smooth cadence grew richer as his curiosity increased.

“My brother found a way to put it back in me. I don’t want it.”

“No, you don’t,” Balthazar agreed. “No, no, cause Michael and Luci are hate-banging it as we speak.” He circled back around Sam until he was standing directly facing Alex. She pressed her back into the crates, holding her breath.

“Can you help me?”

“Oh, yes. The question is, will I?”

“Set your terms.”

“I’ll do it for free.”

 _Free_? Alex tipped her head in confusion. Balthazar. He was going to do something for a _Winchester_ for free? She peered around the crate to see the angel once again facing Sam.

“Free?” Sam let out a disbelieving huff. “Why?”

“Well, you’re a . . . capable young man. I’d love to have you in my debt. And I have to say, I’m not a fan of your brother, so screwing him would delight me.”

 _There it was._ Alex knew there was something he wanted. There always was.

Balthazar continued. “Anyways, to business. The spell, yes. So, finding the ingredients are easy enough, yes, but, uh, there’s one tricky part, however.”

“Okay.”

“You need to scar your vessel.”

“Meaning what?”

“Meaning something that so pollutes it, it renders it uninhabitable. Calls for something very specific. Any idea what that might be, _Micaelez_?”

 _Dammit_. Alex stood up, stepping around the box. “Banging Justin Bieber?” she suggested wryly.

“Not exactly. Although I quite like your idea —”

“What is it?” Sam snapped, temper flaring up. 

Balthazar looked over at the Winchester, not at all affected by his anger. “Patricide.”

“Wow. You have serious daddy issues,” Alex snorted, walking closer. An irritated flick of the wing stopped her in her tracks.

Sam’s eyes narrowed in confusion. “My father’s been dead for years.”

“To be clear, um, you need the blood of your father, but your father needn’t be blood. Comprende?”

Alex’s wigs flared up. “No,” she growled, advancing towards Sam. “Hell no.”

“Alex.”

“No!” Alex spun so she was standing toe-to-toe with Balthazar. “What? You think I’m just gonna lie down and let him kill _Bobby_?”

“No,” the angel agreed. “Doesn’t really sound like you.”

Alex saw Sam moving towards the door out of the corner of her eye, and spun around. “The hell do you think you’re going?”

Sam’s voice was icy calm. “I can’t let Dean put that thing back in me,” he insisted “You heard what everyone’s saying. Putting my soul back could kill me. I’ll do what I have to do. And if that means killing my surrogate father . . .” He shrugged.

“He’s not just important to you,” Alex snarled, taking a step towards the hunter. “He’s the closest thing I’ve _ever_ had to a father, you understand? And I’m not going to let you kill him!” Her wings flared high in fury, and lighting flashed.

Balthazar stepped forward, a hand on her shoulder. “Alex. Calm down.”

“Don’t tell me what to do!” Alex’s anger lessened as the angel’s wings flared high above her own, but fire still blazed in her eyes.

Balthazar snapped his fingers, and Alex looked around to see that Sam was gone. The angel’s wings folded down, forcing her to turn back into him.

Alex looked up into his eyes. “Why did you tell him that?” she asked quietly, voice breaking.

“Gotta look after myself. Like I said, having Sam in my debt could be quite useful one day.”

The angel shook her head. “I have to go.” She hurried towards the door.

Balthazar landed in front of her. “Alex —”

“You said it was your responsibility to take care of me!” she snapped angrily. “But now —”

“Yes. My responsibility is to take care of _you_. Not Bobby.”

“He’s one of my closest friends. I don’t have a whole lot of people, B. Maybe three or four. And I’ll be damned if I’m gonna sit back and watch one of them die.”

Balthazar didn’t seem to hear all of what she said. His eyes looked up in thoughtfulness. “Only four? Cas, Bobby, me, obviously. Who’s the other?”

“No, not you.” Alex’s grey eyes flashed angrily. “Cas, Bobby, Sam and Dean. They’re my closest friends. You —” She cut herself off with a snarl. “You’re not my friend. Not anymore.” She spun around and stalked off.

“Alex.” Balthazar appeared in front of her. “You don’t mean that.”

“Like hell I do.”

“No you don’t. Not after what you and I’ve been through.”

“You just told Sam to kill Bobby!”

“I’m looking out for my best interests.”

“And that’s the problem! You don’t give a damn about anyone but yourself.” Alex tried to step around the angel, shoving him out of her way. “Get out of my way,” she growled, teeth clenched.

A low growl rumbled through the angel’s chest, but he stepped to the side. “I’m doing what is best,” he murmured, demeanor changing.

“Yeah. For you.” Alex stormed past, throwing open the door.

“For you. And for Sam.” The angel’s voice had Alex pausing but refusing to look back. Seeing he had her attention, Balthazar warned, “If you want to go, go. But ask yourself which is easier: dealing with Bobby Singer’s death, or watching your friend Sam slowly rot away inside of himself for the rest of his life.”

“Sam will be fine.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes I do.” And with that, Alex stalked away, slamming the door behind her with a flick of her grace. She jumped in her car and drove away.

 

 **“A** lex.”

“Fuck!” The car swerved, and Alex forced it back into the right lane. “The hell?”

“I saw you’ve figured out that lightning trick back there.” Balthazar watched from the passenger seat. “Impressive.”

“What about stay the hell away didn’t you understand?”

The angel looked thoughtful. “If I recall,” he began slowly, “those words didn’t actually leave your mouth.”

“I was paraphrasing.”

“Mm. Yes. Yes, I suppose that makes sense.” However, the angel made no move to leave, and Alex felt a growl rise in her chest. “Be quiet,” he chastised. “That’s not going to scare me away.”

“Well, I apologize that I’m a little pissed at you right now,” the female angel muttered. She tightened her grip on the steering wheel, eyes focusing intently on the road as she felt her anger lessen slightly.

“You’re not thinking about this logically,” Balthazar continued, the slightest bit of insistence tinging his voice. “If you put that soul back in Sam —”

“Sam will be fine. We’ll deal with whatever happens, okay?”

“It could kill him. Or worse.”

“But it won’t!” Alex finally spun her gaze onto the angel. “I know, okay? T-There are somethings that I just _know_ , and this is one of them.” Balthazar was silent for several seconds, and Alex pushed his grace away as it reached for her mind. “Stay out of my fucking head!” she snapped.

“You can’t blame me for being curious,” the angel retorted childishly. “Not when you say things like _that_.”

“You know what I mean.” Alex turned the Marquis onto the highway, accelerating a little harder than was necessary.

“Oh.” Balthazar dragged the word out for dramatic effect. “If you’re still sticking to that story —”

“Not a story.”

 “There’s no other universe, darling. Trust me, I’ve looked. “

“Right. Because out of _everyone_ here, you would be the one to find it.”

“I’m quite persistent,” the angel quipped.

“I think you just don’t want to believe it cause you’re just an old douche-y angel in the show.” Alex turned the car down the exit ramp and on to a lower street. When there was no answer, she looked over at the passenger seat. Balthazar was gone. “How the hell . . ?” The girl frowned, slightly frustrated that she hadn’t heard him depart. “Fine,” she yelled. “You always have to leave before I’m done talking.”

 

 **A** lex jumped out of the Marquis and ran towards the house, hastily shoving the keys into her jacket pocket as she pushed her way in through the backdoor.

She heard the sound of splintering wood, and she hurried down the hall before sliding to a halt. Sam was breaking down the bathroom door with an axe. He paused, chest heaving as he looked in through the whole he had made.

“Don’t say ‘Here’s Johnny.” She heard Bobby say, voice heavily laced with sarcasm that masked what was probably fear — Alex could never really tell with him.

“I got to do this, Bobby,” Sam’s attention was solely focused on the hunter, and Alex slipped forward, feet silent on the wooden floor. “I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have —” He cut off as Alex reached up and touched the back of his head. Her grace flooded through him, and he collapsed.

Bobby’s eyes locked with hers, and for several seconds nothing was said. Then the hunter let out a breath. “It’s about time.”

Alex looked down at the collapsed Winchester. “Didn’t even have to do anything,” she mused. “Apparently my grace is strong enough now that it overwhelms —”

“Help me get him downstairs.” Bobby stepped out of the bathroom and grabbed a hold of Sam’s arms.

Alex bit her bottom lip slightly in agitation. “Yeah, sure, whatever.” She grunted as she picked up Sam’s legs. “And you’re welcome for saving your ass.”

“Keep lifting,” Bobby snapped, obviously not paying her words any attention. “You want him to wake up?”

“He’s not gonna wake up,” Alex snapped back, straining to carry the hunter towards the stairs. “Not with the amount of grace I threw into him. Should be out for at _least_ four hours.”

She followed Bobby around the corner, down the stairs, and into the panic room. She finally leaned against the wall, taking a few deep breaths. “He’s heavy.”

“I thought you angels were suppose to be strong.”

“I’m . . . getting there.” Alex glanced down at Sam, who now lay on the thin cot. “Should we cuff him?”

“You think it’s necessary?”

“You _really_ want to take that chance?” Alex watched as Bobby stepped out of the room to retrieve a pair of handcuffs. She turned her attention back to Sam, focusing on the gentle rise and fall of his chest.

 

 **D** ean was back late than night, tired and despondent. Without even asking, both Alex and Bobby knew what had happened. “Where’s Sam?” he asked, voice quiet.

“Downstairs,” Alex admitted. “Panic room.”

“He . . .”

Bobby nodded. “Came at me with an axe.”

Dean winced, and buried his head in a hand, unable to contain his stress and disappointment. “Let me see him.”

Bobby led the way downstairs, sliding open the small metal panel in the door. Dean stepped forward to peer inside, and his shoulders drooped. “I can’t keep doing this, Bobby. I mean, what am I, gonna tie him up every time he tries to kill someone? And that’s not gonna hold him. I mean, he’s —”

“— capable of anything,” Bobby finished.

Dean closed the panel, turning to the older hunter. “What am I suppose to do here?”

“I don’t know.”

Dean shook his head and walked away. Alex moved to follow, but Bobby held out a hand, stopping her. She paused, brushing his arm away. “Stay here,” she begged before moving away. “Let me talk to him.”

“Go away.” Dean lengthened his stride to outpace her.

“Dean.” The angel reached for his shoulder. “We can keep trying—”

“No. You said Death was the only thing that could pull Sam’s soul out. I blew it —” The hunter froze, eyes focused on the kitchen.

Alex paused as well, unable to see into the room from her vantage point.

A voice spoke. “Dean. Join me.” Dean moved forward, hand outstretched to accept something unknown. “Brought you one from a little stand in Los Angeles known for their bacon dogs.” As Dean moved out of the way, Alex caught sight of the source of the voice. She knew who it was immediately. Death’s gaze swept over her briefly before motioning Dean towards a chair. “Sit.”

“Boy, what’s with you and cheap food?” Dean asked, the disdain in his voice covering his pain.

“I could ask you the same thing.” Death looked up at Alex.

She shifted uncomfortably. “S-Sorry,” she stammered out. “I . . . maybe I should go.” She turned.

“Stay. Sit.” The low, quiet voice had her freezing. She turned back, suppressing a shiver and pulling her grace in tight as she slid into a chair. Seeing he had her compliance, the Horseman turned his attention back to the hotdog sitting in front of him. “Thought I’d have a treat before I put the ring back on,” he stated casually. At those words, Dean reached into his pocket, drawing Death’s gaze to it. “Heavier than it looks, isn’t it? Sometimes you just want the thing off. But you would know that.” He watched Dean for a second, then his gaze flickered down to the untouched bacon dog. “Not hungry?”

“Look . . . I think you know that I flunked.” Dean set the ring down on the table. “So there. Oh, and, uh, by the way, I, uh . . . I suck at being you. Really screwed up the whole natural order thing. But I’m sure you knew about that, too.”

“So, if you go back, would you simply kill the little girl? No, fuss, no stomping your feet?”

Alex moved to stand up; this wasn’t a conversation she felt she was to be a part of. Cold gripped at her grace, and she pulled her wings in tightly around her.

“Stay,” Death repeated. The slightest tinge of exasperation tinged his voice.

Alex didn’t meet his eye. “Why?” she asked. “I — this doesn't involve me.”

“It will. Now sit down.” Death slid a basket of chili cheese fries across the table. “Try some.”

Alex sat back down warily. The cold still gripped her grace, and she tried to push it away. “C-Can you . . . not?” she asked quietly.

“Sorry.” The cold disappeared. Death, satisfied that Alex had no intention of leaving, turned his attention back to Dean, silently prompting the hunter for his answer.

Dean didn’t look happy. “Knowing what I know now, yeah. I would have . . . yeah.”

“I’m surprised to hear that. Surprised and glad.” Dean’s gaze darted over the angel, and she busied herself on tasting the fries.

“Yeah, well, don’t get excited. I would have saved the nurse, okay? That’s it.”

Alex watched Dean out of the corner of her eye, not really sure what had happened to him in the past ten hours. But by the sound of it, whatever he had done, Alex didn't envy him in the slightest.

“I think it's a little more than that. Today, you got a hard look behind the curtain. Wrecking the natural order's not quite such fun when you have to mop up the mess, is it?” The Horseman leaned, closer, eyes trained steadily on the hunter. “This is hard for you, Dean. You throw away your life because you've come to assume that it'll bounce right back into your lap. But the human soul is not a rubber ball. It's vulnerable, impermanent, but stronger than you know. And more valuable than you can imagine. So.” Death leaned away, straightening back up. “I think you've learned something today.” He took a sip from his plastic cup.

“Wanna know what I think?” Dean immediately grew defensive. “I think you knew I wouldn’t last the day.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I lost. Fine.” Dean’s tone grew sour. “But at least have the balls to admit that it was rigged from the beginning.”

Death’s voice was quiet. “Most people would speak to me with more respect.”

“I didn’t mean —”

“We’re done here. It’s been lovely.” He stood up and took up his cane. “But now I’m going to go to hell and get your brother’s soul.”

Dean looked up at the Horseman, confusion in his emerald gaze. “Why would you do that for me?”

“I wouldn’t do if for you. You and your brother keep coming back.” Death circled around the table to stand in between Dean and Alex, voice sharp with dislike. “You’re an affront to the balance of the universe, and you cause disruption on a global scale.”

Alex let out a snort of amusement at the Horseman’s words, but immediately quieted when he shot her a glance.

“I apologize for that.”

“But you have use,” Death finished. “Right now, you’re digging at something. The intrepid Detective.” He looked down at Alex. “I want you to keep digging.”

Alex shook her head. “I don’t want to,” she insisted quietly. “Not when I know what we’re going to find.”

Dean studied the two supernatural beings, lips twisting into a frown. “You two gonna be cryptic about this or what?”

“It’s about the souls,” Death told him. “You’ll understand when you need to.” He picked up his ring, rolling it twice between two fingers.

“Wait! W-With Sam . . . Is this wall thing really gonna work?”

“Call it seventy-five percent.” Death slipped on the ring. Then he just vanished. Alex blinked in surprise, not really use to seeing people just vanish anymore without the use of wings.

Dean stared in surprise before running out of the room. “Bobby!” He tore down the stairs, Alex close on his heels. “Open the door!”

Bobby looked up at Dean, face one of incredulity and confusion. “What happened?”

“Now!” Dean shifted impatiently as the hunter opened the panic room door.

Sam was wide awake. “Get away from me!” he was yelling. “Don’t! Don’t!” He was yelling at something beside him.

Alex focused her mind, and then she saw it; Death sat on the cot beside him, a old-fashioned black bag by his side. “Now, Sam,” he said calmly, “I’m gonna put up a barrier inside your mind.”

“No! Don’t touch me!”

“It might feel a bit . . . itchy,” Death continued, reaching to open his bag. “Do me a favor. Don’t scratch the wall. Trust me — you’re not going to like what happens.”

“Please,” Sam begged. He tried to move away, straining at his bonds, chest heaving in fear. “Don’t do this.”

Death didn’t listen. He reached inside his bag, and Alex flinched at the bright light that emanated from it. He took it in his hands and held it over Sam’s chest.

“No. No! You don’t know what’ll happen to me.” He looked over towards the door, and his eyes locked with Dean. “Dean. please!” Death moved his soul closer and he desperately tried to twist away. “No! Alex. Please! Help me!” He cut off with a scream. Death pressed Sam’s soul back into its body, and Sam writhed in pain. “No!” He threw his head back as he cried out, back arched in pain. Alex tore her gaze away to look at the ground, trying to block out her friend’s cries for help. Then he fell back on the cot, limp and unconscious.

When she looked back up, Death was gone. Dean pushed past her to hurry over to his brother. He placed his hand on the hunter’s neck, then closed his eyes. “Call Cas.”

“I-Is he okay?” Alex stepped in through the panic room door. “Dean —”

“He’s fine,” Dean promised, voice cracking slightly. “Get your mate down here.”

Alex nodded and hurried up out of the basement. “Cas!” she called. “Need you, ASAP.” Nothing. Alex took a deep breath before adding, “Cas,we put Sam’s soul back.”

“You _what_?”

Alex spun around to see Castiel standing there, wings flared. She dropped hers low, wing tips curling inwards in greeting. “He’s downstairs.” She reached forward and took his hand before pulling him with her towards the stairs.

Castiel followed, lengthening his stride to surpass her and reach the basement. “What happened?”

“Cas.” Dean waved the angel over. “Get your ass over here.”

A growl rumbled through the angel’s chest, but he obeyed. “What did you do?” he repeated.

“Is Sam’s soul intact?” Dean straightened up, looking down into the angel’s eyes. Castiel flared his wings, grace crackling through the air, meeting Dean’s challenge. Dean didn’t notice, and raised an eyebrow, waiting for the angel to make a move.

Alex reached forward with a dark wing, flicking her mate in the back of the head. Castiel turned, wings falling back to his side. He brushed past Dean, who stepped outside the panic room, waiting. Alex peered in, watching as Castiel’s grace glowed as he reached inside Sam. Her wings tingled as his grace and Sam’s soul collided, and Castiel pulled back. He wordlessly rolled down his sleeve and stepped outside. “His soul’s intact,” he informed them quietly.

“Is he ever gonna wake up?” Dean worriedly looked over at his brother.

“I’m not a human doctor, Dean.”

“Could you take a guess?”

“Okay.” Castiel paused for only a second before saying, “Probably not.”

“Oh.” Dean blinked in shock. “Well, don’t sugarcoat it.”

“Let me tell you what his soul felt like when I touched it.” Castiel’s voice grew angry, and his wings flared up. “Like it had been skinned _alive_ , Dean. If you wanted to kill your brother, you should have done it outright.” The seraph’s wings shook with fury, and he pushed them downwards, flying off.

Alex watched him go, wings dropping low at his disappointment. “Cas,” she whispered. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.” Dean’s voice made her jump, and she turned guiltily to face the hunter. She opened her mouth to apologize, to insist she hadn’t meant for him to hear, but Dean only let out a sigh. He reached forward, a gentle hand resting on her shoulder for only the briefest second before he walked away.

Alex watched him disappear up the stairs before turning back to the panic room. She walked over to Sam’s side and sat down on the cot. The hunter’s forehead glistened with perspiration, and his eyes were squeezed shut, but he showed no sign of consciousness. Alex brushed a stray stand of hair out of his face, reaching out with her grace to unlock the handcuffs. “Come on, Sam,” she murmured, pressing her grace desperately against him. “Wake up. Please.”


	9. Like a Virgin

**A** week had passed. The Singer house was filled with a dark, tense, silence. Alex tiptoed around Bobby and Dean, spending the majority of her time either hiding in her room or in the panic room with Sam. He was still unconscious, and showed no signs of waking up. 

A crash woke her up. Alex’s eyes flew open to see the familiar iron walls, and she blinked in confusion to find herself not in her warm bed upstairs. Her head rested on something warm, and as she woke up further, she realized that she had fallen asleep curled up beside Sam. She rubbed her eyes, tiredness still pulling at her limbs. “Sorry,” she murmured, touching Sam’s shoulder. “Didn’t mean to fall asleep on you.” She hopelessly pushed her grace into him, shoulders drooping when he didn’t react. “Please wake up.” 

She reluctantly stood up and left the room, not bothering to close the door behind her. She ascended the stairs, nose wrinkling as she smelt an open bottle of scotch. She was prepared to walk into the room and remind them once again that they couldn’t keep drinking like this before she realized they were talking. 

“ — of Buddy Hollys?” Dean was asking skeptically. “Doesn’t really seem like News of Weird.”

“Pilot was found seventeen miles away, flambeed. Girl’s just gone. No body, no nothing.”

Alex stepped into the room. “Did you find a case?” she queried, hoping so. “I think a case would be good right now.”

Dean shook his head. “There’s nothing that says this is a case.” 

“Did you hear a word I just said?” Bobby countered, slightly angry. 

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean —”

“Dean.” 

Everyone froze. Alex spun around to see Sam standing there. He looked slightly unsteady on his feet, but his eyes were bright. 

“Sam.” Dean hurriedly set his glass down and jumped to his feet.

Sam unsteadily walked into the room and pulled Dean into a hug, holding on tight. Dean slowly hugged him back, his shock still evident. The chair creaked as Bobby got up and circled around Alex. Sam pulled the hunter into a tight embrace, eyes closed. “Good to see you,” Bobby finally said, patting Sam’s back.

“Wait.” Sam halted in confusion before pulling away. “I saw you — I — I felt Lucifer snap your neck.”

“Well, Cas is kind of —”

“Cas is alive?” Disbelief filled the Winchester’s voice, but relief was evident across his face.

“Yeah,” Alex confirmed. “He’s alive.” 

Sam turned to her, an emotion Alex couldn’t read flickering through his eyes. Then he turned away, leaving Alex slightly disappointed at the lack of a welcome. 

“Sam, are you okay?” Dean asked, drawing his brother’s attention to him. 

“Actually, um . . . I’m starving.” 

“I have a couple sandwiches in the fridge,” Alex offered, hoping to draw Sam’s attention back to her. It didn’t work. Sam nodded absently and moved towards the kitchen, Dean close on his heels. Alex trailed behind, wings drooping in disappointment. She watched as the hunter took one of her sandwiches and a beer before sitting down at the kitchen table. Dean sat across from him, and Alex pulled herself up onto the counter, letting her legs swing freely. 

Sam unwrapped the sandwich and tossed the cellophane away, hurriedly digging in. Bobby handed Dean a beer, and the hunter accepted it gratefully. “So, Sam . . .” he began. 

“Yeah?” Sam looked up, still chewing on a mouthful of roast beef and onion.

“What’s the last thing you remember?”

Sam chewed a few more times, giving him the chance to think. “The field,” he finally said. “Then I fell.”  
   
“Okay. And then?”  
   
“I woke up in the panic room.” Sam took another famished bite. 

“That’s it?” Bobby sound skeptical from where he was leaning against the counter beside Alex. “You don’t remember —”

“Let’s be glad,” Dean interrupted, shooting the old hunter a sideways glare. “Who wants to remember all that hell?” 

“Well, how long was I gone?”  
   
“About a year and a half.” 

“What?” Sam dropped whatever was left of his meal onto his plate. “I was downstairs f— I don’t remember anything. So how’d I get back? Was it Cas?” He looked back at Bobby, but still refused to meet Alex’s gaze. She frowned again.

“Not exactly.” 

Dean’s words had Sam turning back to his brother. “Dean, what did you do?” 

“Me and Death —”

“Death? The Horseman?!”

“I had leverage. It’s done.” 

“You sure?” Even from the back, Alex could tell Sam was still skeptical.

“It’s over. Slate’s wiped.” 

“Well, isn’t it just neat and clean?” Bobby muttered. 

“Yes it is,” Dean insisted steadily, looking past Sam to hold Bobby’s gaze. “For once.” 

“Any thing else I should know?”

Dean paused for only a second. “No,” he finally said, firmly shaking his head. “Another beer?”

“Uh, yeah.” 

Dean got up and walked over to the fridge, and Alex took the opportunity to slip out of the room. 

 

 **A** lex walked back downstairs to find Sam alone in the study. He was sprawled out, eyes closed, breathing shallow. Concerned, the female angel looked around. No sign of either Dean or Bobby. She approached, gently poking him in the shoulder. “Sam?”

The hunter jerked awake, spluttering out his confusion. 

Alex pulled back. “Sorry,” she profusely apologized, “I was worried.” She hesitantly reached out. “I can help,” she said quietly. “Might help kickstart your body.” 

“I’m fine.” Sam stood up, shaking his head. “I’m gonna go take a piss.” And with that, he walked off towards the bathroom. 

Alex looked down, hurt by his coldness. Something was wrong. The _ding_ of her phone broke her out of her thoughts, and she looked down. One message from Dean. _Get packed. We’re leaving. Sam can’t know._ Alex nodded and sullenly disappeared up the stairs. 

 

 **F** ive minutes later she slipped out the backdoor and hurried across the salvage yard. Dean was standing in front of the Impala, deep in conversation with Bobby. “Sam still asleep?” he asked, glancing at Alex as she threw her bag in the trunk. 

“Yeah,” she agreed. 

“Let him rest,” Dean expounded, “We’ll call him later.” 

“Call me from where?” Sam appeared behind Alex, and she jumped. 

“Oh. Uh, there’s this thing up in Oregon.” Dean shrugged like it was nothing.

“Great. I’m in.”

“Whoa whoa.” Dean shook his head incredulously. “No. You just got vertical.” 

“Exactly. I’m up, I’m good.”

“Well, a few more days of crap cable couldn’t hurt.”

“Right. Because that’s why you did when _you_ got back from hell.”

“Alright.” Dean figuratively threw his hands up, rolling his eyes. “Fine. All of us can go.”

“You three go ahead. You got this covered. I, uh, I forgot I promised that idjit Rufus that I’d man the phones for him, so . . .”

“You sure?”

“Yeah yeah yeah. You three enjoy catching up, okay?” And with that, Bobby walked away. 

Sam watched him go, thoroughly confused. “What was that?”

“One part age, three parts liquor.” Dean circled around to the driver’s side door, and Alex slid into the back. 

 

 **N** ight came, and the air grew chill. Alex curled up in the backseat, wings pulled tightly around her. She shifted, and shifted again, desperately trying to get comfortable in the cold vehicle. Finally, Dean noticed, glancing over his shoulder. “Cold, Pip?” 

Alex nodded, rolling into the seats once again. “The heater back here isn’t working,” she whined. “Can I sit up front with you?” 

“Wait for Sam to finish his call.” 

Alex sat up and leaned over the front seat, staring at the hunter, who was currently slightly turned away from her, his cellphone pressed tightly against his ear. “Uh, you got it, officer,” he was saying. “Thank you.” Pause. “You too.” The second he hung up, Alex clambered over the seat, curling so her head rested against Dean’s warm shoulder. She ignored how Sam protested, and after a few seconds, he huffed in acceptance. “So get this,” he began, moving Alex’s foot out of the way when it came to rest on his thigh. “Besides the crash, there were two other disappearances this week.”

“Really?” The rumbling in Dean’s chest told Alex he was interested. Alex burrowed deeper into the warmth. 

“Yeah. Last weekend, a college girl disappeared from her apartment. On the seventh floor. Then, three days ago, another girl didn't make it home from school.”

“So girls,” Alex mumbled. 

 “Seems so.” 

“They know each other?” Dean turned the Impala onto a freeway ramp, the turning of the wheel made somewhat awkward for him by the young angel resting on his shoulder. 

“No. No connection. Just young and female, like the plane-crash girl.” 

“What would disappear a girl out of the sky anyways?”

“Good question.” Sam paused for a moment, looking out the window. Alex opened her mouth to expound on Dean’s comment, but Sam spoke first. “So you never even tried, huh?”

“Tried?”

“To go live a life . . . after. You do remember you promised that, right?” 

“Yeah, I remember.” Sadness crept into the hunter’s voice, and Alex curled one wing so its tip rested on his stomach in a gesture of comfort. 

“So, why didn’t you try?”

“We did try,” Alex insisted. 

“What makes you think I didn’t?” Dean added. 

“Well, look at you. Look at, at this. You look exactly the same.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” Dean let out a small noise and fell into silence. 

“He was with Lisa and Ben,” Alex added. “For a while too. A year I think.”

“But . . .”

“But it didn’t work out.” And with that, Dean turned up the music, effectively killing the conversation. Alex reached out with her grace and turned up the heat, eyes closing in bliss as warmth thrummed through the air. Dean nudged her gently, and the angel sat up, turning down the music with a confused noise. “Go lay on Sam,” Dean repeated. “I’m trying to drive.” He reached to turn up the music. 

“I . . .” Sam was cut off by the loud bass. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he finally mumbled. 

Even though Dean couldn’t hear him, Alex could, and she frowned, deeply hurt. Something was wrong with Sam. 

 

**November 11th, 2011**

**Portland, Oregon**

**T** hey pulled into the motel in Portland within the hour. Alex helped Sam carry in their bags while Dean checked them in. She dropped the bags on the floor beside the beds as Dean announced that he was going out to get gas. The door closed behind him, and Alex heard Sam move towards the bathroom door. She looked up in time to see him roll his right shoulder with a small grimace. “Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine.” Sam’s gaze flickered to the ground. “It’s just been sore. Did, I, uh, did I injure it recently?”

“No. I don’t . . .” Alex trailed off. “When you were, uh, unconscious after Death put your soul back in, I, uh, might have fallen asleep on your shoulder.” Seeing Sam’s confusion, she added, “Hey. I spent a lot of time with your unconscious ass. Bobby and Dean too.” 

Sam hurried into the bathroom, and Alex sighed. 

 

 **T** he morning came, and Alex managed to get some sleep around six in the morning. When she woke, neither Sam nor Dean were there. A note sat on the table with three words scrawled in Dean’s hand. _Questioning family. Call._

Alex picked up her phone and did as he asked. It rang, and rang again, and then finally Dean answered. “Morning, sunshine.” 

“Hey, Dean.” Alex suppressed a yawn. “What’s up?” 

“One minute.” Alex heard Dean excuse himself from something, followed by the sound of a door opening and shutting. “How’d you sleep?” 

“This is what you wanted to talk about?” Alex sat down on the table, crossing her legs. “Could’ve at least gotten me breakfast —”

“What’s up with Sam?” 

“Sam?” Alex narrowed her eyes. “I don’t know. What’s wrong?” 

“Does he seem . . . I dunno, a little weird?” 

“Yeah. I mean, I guess. If by weird you mean totally ignoring me.” 

A despondent sigh escaped Dean’s mouth. “You think we did the right thing? If this thing doesn’t —”

“We’ll take care of him,” Alex promised. “Whatever happens, we’ll fix it. That’s what we always do, right?” 

“Yeah, I know.”

“Sam will be fine. Just . . . give him some time to adjust. He’s been gone for a year and a half and doesn’t remember any of it. Can’t really blame him for being a little out of it.” 

“You’re right.” Dean sounded like he wanted to believe her. “Sorry. I, I’m just . . .”

“Worried? Yeah. But he’s only been vertical for a day.” Alex looked down at the note in her hand, the edges slightly crinkled from where she had been playing with it. “Who are you talking to? She know anything?”

“Nothing. She knows jack shit. We’ll be back within the hour.” Dean hung up.

Alex pulled the phone away from her ear and stared at the dead speaker. “Okay. Bring breakfast.” 

 

 **L** ike promised, the Winchesters were back within thirty minutes. Dean walked in and threw his jacket down over a chair, watching as Sam sat down at the table with his laptop. Alex stood up and walked over to Dean. “Breakfast?” 

“I’ll take you out for coffee later.” 

“Later? How about now?” Alex glanced at the ugly-ass clock on the wall. “It’s almost nine-thirty, and I’m hungry.” Seeing Dean’s face, she added, “Come on. I’ll buy.” 

“Sam?” 

The youngest Winchester shook his head. “You two go. I’m going to look into the other girls.” 

Dean shrugged. “Your loss.” He grabbed his jacket back off the chair and slid it on before grabbing his keys. “Let’s roll.” 

Alex hurried after Dean, shoving her fists into her pockets at the chilly morning air. “So. What’s up with the case?” 

Dean slid into the Impala, still warm from the drive back. “Penny Dessertine. Twenty-two years old, virgin —” He paused when Alex made a questioning noise. “Her room was pink. I mean, like, _pink_.”

“Huh. Okay, probably a good assumption.”

 

 **“Y** ou guys were gone forever.” Sam looked up when the Alex and Dean reentered the motel. 

Dean dropped a fast food bag and two drinks on the table beside him, and Alex placed her own food in front of her chair. “Sorry,” she apologized. “Lost track of time. Went to the mall.” 

“You _dragged_ me to the mall.”

“You got like, three girl’s numbers,” Alex lightly shot back. “Didn’t hear you complaining.” 

Dean shrugged off his jacket and loosened his tie. “What you got?” he asked his brother.

“Uh . . . well, it looks like the other two girls were baking cookies for the Lord.”

“What?” 

“What is that?” Dean added. “Code?” 

“No. Church choir, bake sales, promise-ring clubs, the works. They were good girls. But Penny wasn’t even a Christian, so —”

“What kind of creature discriminates against religion?” Alex countered. “Especially Christianity. Demons don’t really give a damn, pagan gods got their head’s so far up their asses —”

“I have another theory,” Dean cut her off. He picked up a small book he had dropped on the bed a while back. “Penny’s diary.”

“You stole that from her room?” Sam looked up at his brother, surprised.

“I love that you even asked that.”

“And why wouldn’t I?” Sam seems genuinely offended, and Alex shot him a curious glance. 

“No reason.” Dean walked over to the table and sat down, gesturing to his brother with the book. “So. Girl-nappings. What if it’s not about religion. What if it’s about purity?” 

“You mean you think they’re all —”

“Virgins, Sam. Virgins,” Dean finished, nodding. He flipped open the book, skimming through it.

“Penny was twenty-two.” 

“With a pink room.” 

“So?” 

“And stuffed teddy-bears.” 

“Fine.” Sam rolled his eyes. “But you really think —”

“ ‘I’ve decided to give Stan my most precious gift,’ ” Dean read dramatically. 

“Wow.” Sam blinked. “That sounded really creepy coming from your mouth.” Alex snorted in agreement. 

“I think I delivered it,” Dean defended, snapping the book shut. He threw his feet up onto the table, pulling the fast-food bag close. 

“You know, you, you could have lead with ‘the diary,’ you know?”

“I think he’s on to something.” Alex fished around her her bag for the fries. “Virgins are a much more likely target. Suppose to taste better, or something,” she added teasingly. 

“Where’d you hear that? Your buddy Satan?” 

Alex flicked her grace out, poking Dean in the forehead. “First of all, Lucifer doesn’t _eat_ virgins. Get your facts straight. And second, we’re not ‘buddies.’ ” She added air quotes for emphasis. 

“Fine. Friends with benefits— ow!” Dean flinched as Alex kicked him. She pouted to see he was still grinning at his own joke.

Sam cleared his throat, obviously uncomfortable. “Anyways. Let’s assume you’re right. Who would want virgins?” 

“You got me.” Dean pulled out his burger. “I prefer women with experience.” 

“Dragons like virgins,” Alex offered helpfully. 

“Dragons aren’t real.”  
   
“You aren’t real,” Alex shot back playfully. “And yeah they are. Lucifer said so.” Dean opened his mouth, but she kicked him again. “Shut up.” 

“Dragons?” Sam sounded skeptical. “I don’t know. Even if they _did_ exist . . .”

“They probably all died out in the Middle Ages. Knights and all.” Dean shoved a handful of fries into his mouth. “My money’s on pagan god.” 

“Fine,” Alex reluctantly conceded, “you’re probably right.” 

 

 **S** am found nothing else, and the rest of the day was spent milling around the motel. The room was too small for Alex’s taste; the two beds sat facing each other against opposite walls, with the table in the front of the room beside the small counter and sink. There was a dresser against the far wall with a small tv on top, and the bathroom lay straight to its left. There was barely enough floorspace for Alex to pace, so she spent her free time sprawled across the bed. “Can I go out?” she whined, rolling over to look at Dean. “I’m so bored.” 

“No.” 

“No?” Alex blinked in confusion. “Well fuck you. I wasn’t asking permission, ass-hat.” She sat up, frowning as Dean stood. 

“Fine. You want to go out? I’m coming with.”

“What? Why?”

Sam spoke up, “Well, this thing — whatever it is — its hunting virgins, right?” 

“So you’re sticking with one of us until we hunt this son of a bitch,” Dean finished. “Capisce?” 

Alex crossed her arms, planting her feet. “Fine, fine. I’ll stay here then.” She rolled back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling. “I can hold my own,” she eventually growled. “I _am_ an angel, after all.” 

“You don’t give us a chance to forget.” There was a thud as Dean dropped his feet off of the table and onto the floor. “You’re not going off alone, Pip. Angel or not, you’ve been a lot more miss than hits recently.” 

“And what’s that suppose to mean?” Alex sat up once again, eyes flashing in hurt. 

“You’ve been stabbed _twice_ in like, a month.” 

Alex stuck her tongue out. 

 

 **I** t was that next morning when Sam found a lead. A woman had been attacked, and was being treated at Providence Portland Medical Center for what seemed like an animal attack. “It’s worth a shot,” Sam insisted. “I mean, look at her.” He slid the morning newspaper over to Dean. “Young, female, fits the profile.”

“Yeah, except she’s alive,” Dean countered, pushing the paper away. “And not . . . missing.”

“I’m just saying it’s worth talking to her. Maybe she escaped.” Seeing Dean’s face, Sam sighed. “Listen. ‘Mauled by an animal’ —”

“Is pretty common in Oregon,” Dean finished, but threw up his hands. “Fine. If this is the only thing we’ve got, I’ll go.” 

Sam nodded. “Thanks.” 

Dean grunted, grabbing his dress pants and stalking into the bathroom.

Alex cleared her throat from where she had been sitting on the bed, quietly watching their exchange. “Can I come?” 

“What?” Sam looked over at her, confused. He met her gaze for only a second before turning back to the paper. 

Alex’s gaze hardened, and she stood up and walked over to the table. “Sam,” she began. 

Just then the bathroom door opened and Dean stepped out wearing only his pants. He walked over to his dress shirt was hanging up and pulled it on. “Get ready, Sammy,” he told his brother. “You’re the one who insisted on checking this thing out.”

Sam hurriedly excused himself from the table, and Alex watched him go with a sigh. She sat down in the chair, pulling the paper close. 

Dean tied his tie before pulling on his socks and shoes. Alex sat in silence, reading the article over and over again. Girl was attacked by some wild animal in the middle of Portland, Oregon. “Does seem unlikely,” she finally added, breaking the silence. “She was attacked in the middle of town.” The angel looked over at Dean. “You don’t see a lot of bears in the middle of the city.” 

“That’s why we’re going to check this out,” Dean grunted, tugging on his left shoe with a grumbled curse. He started over, untying the laces before he pulled it on. 

Sam stepped out of the bathroom, fully dressed and ready to go. He ran two hands through his hair before turning to Dean. “Ready?” 

“Yeah.” Dean checked to make sure he had his ID before turning to Alex. “Come on.”

“Wait. Me?” Alex put down the paper. “Why?” 

“We’re not leaving you alone with some virgin-napper on the loose.” Dean gestured towards the door. “So you’re sticking with us.” 

“I’m an angel, Dean.” 

“Who was impaled by a four-foot leprechaun.” Dean’s face hardened into a frown. “And I don’t know about you, but I’d like to keep that boyfriend of yours off my ass. So come on.” 

Alex huffed, but stood up and stalked over to the two Winchesters. “Fine. Fine, let’s go.” 

 

 **A** lex slumped in a chair, kicking sullenly at the air. Sam and Dean were on the other side of the wall, talking with the young woman. Melissa or something. 

“I-It looked like a . . . a giant bat,” Melissa was saying. “You think I’m making it up, right? That’s what the other man said.”

“Well, I’m not the other man,” Sam assured her gently. 

“It came right at me.” The woman’s voice on the verge of tears. “It was huge. I swear. T-That’s how I got this.” There was a slight swishing sound as cloth was moved, and Alex guessed she was showing the Winchesters what exactly had happened to her. 

“So it attacked,” Sam concluded. “And then what happened?” 

“I don’t know. I passed out, and when I woke up, it was gone.” 

“Is there anything else you can think of? Anything you can tell us, even if it doesn’t seem relevant?” 

“Well, my ring got lost.” Confusion lined the girl’s voice. “Or else the thing stole it, i-if that makes any sense.”

“What kind of ring?” That was Dean.

“Gold. Promise ring.”

“Promise ring,” Dean repeated. “So, uh . . . from like, uh, a church? Purity ring?” 

“Yeah. Why?”

There was a short pause, and Alex imagined the Winchesters exchanging looks. “I got to ask,” Dean finally said. “Uh, Melissa . . . Look, nobody is judging anybody here, okay? Believe me. But . . . should you really be wearing that ring?” 

“Well, I-I mean I-I am —”

“Really?”

“Matt Barne didn’t count!” Melissa insisted. 

Another pause. Then, “Thank you for your time.” The door swung open, and the two brother stepped out. A hand came down to muss up her hair, and Alex startled out of her daydream, hands flying up to ward off the attacker. Dean chuckled, kicking her gently in the leg. “Come on.”

Alex stood up and followed them down the stairs and out into the parking lot. She kicked at a rock, watching as it skipped across the parking lot and narrowly missed hitting the Impala’s tire. 

“So, what,” Sam started, “you think Batman tried to rape her?”

“Well, he does carry a lot of rage,” Dean joked dryly. “But he rejected her because she was already dehymenated, huh?”

“You think?” 

“I think it just goes to show that being easy’s pretty much all upside.” 

Alex slowed her pace, ignoring the look Dean was most likely shooting her way. She kicked at another rock, huffing in satisfaction as it skipped over the curb. 

“So, what kind of thing likes virgins and gold?” 

“P. Diddy?” 

Sam snorted. “You know, it’s comforting.”

“What?” Dean walked up to the Impala, fingers brushing against the trunk in a silent gesture of affinity. 

“I died for a year, came back, and you’re still not funny.” Sam circled around to his door, and Alex slid into the backseat. 

Dean paused, offended. “Shut up. I’m hilarious.” Without waiting for a reply, he slid into the car. The second Sam closed the door, they were off.

 

 **T** wo hours passed. Sam had been glued to his laptop ever since they had gotten back from lunch. Alex was helping Dean with the link chart on the wall. She handed him a picture of the first young girl to go missing — Alex couldn’t remember her name for the life of her — when music came from Sam’s computer. With a roll of her eyes, she looked over at him. “The hell you doing?” she teased. “I swear that thing’s made that noise at least five times already.”

Sam shrugged, staring blankly at his screen. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I, it doesn’t make any sense.” His attention turned upwards towards Dean. “This can’t be possible,” he added, tone on the verge of frustration. 

Dean snorted, turning to face him. “Try me.”

“Um, I googled ‘fire,’ ‘claws,’ ‘stealing virgins,’ and ‘gold,’ and it always takes me to the same place.”

“Where?” 

“ _World of Warcraft_ fansites.”

Alex grinned, but Dean just frowned. “I don’t know what that means.” 

“It means I was right.” Alex jabbed Dean in the ribs triumphantly. 

Sam reluctantly nodded. “Dragons, dude. See? Told you. Not possible.” 

Alex stuck out her tongue. “You’re just jealous cause I was right.” She poked Dean again before stepping away. “ _Amin naa teena_ ’.” 

“What?” Sam’s eyebrows knitted in confusion. “Is that . . . Greek?”

“It’s Elvish.” Alex grinned, sitting down at the table. 

“How do you know that?” 

“It means ‘I am right,’ ” Dean added with a grumble, moving over to his brother. 

 Sam’s confusion increased tenfold. “How do _you_ know that?”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me.” Dean clapped his brother on the shoulder in passing, moving to the tiny fridge to retrieve a drink. 

“Uh, no, there isn’t.” 

“Dragons, dude,” Dean continued, moving the conversation back to the case. “Might actually be so.” 

Sam snorted in disbelief. “In what reality?” 

“It’s been a strange year.” Dean returned with two beers and set one down beside Sam. “We should get a second opinion.” With that, he sauntered over to his bag and retrieved his phone. 

Sam shook his head, and Alex kicked at him under the table. “ _Είσαι βλάκας_ ,” she reiterated. _You’re a moron_. Standing up, she added cheekily, “That was in Greek.” Then she walked over to the fridge to get herself a beer. 

“What do you know about dragons?” Dean asked suddenly, and Alex looked over her shoulder to see Dean on the phone. She approached, sitting down on the bed beside him. 

Bobby’s voice could be faintly heard. “What? Nothing.”

“Seriously.”

“Well, they’re not like the Loch Ness Monster, Dean. Dragon’s ain’t real.” 

Alex heard the faint clang of something, and she leaned in closer. “Are you cooking?” She looked up at Dean. “Ask him if he’s cooking?” 

“Uh . . . Alex wants to know if you’re, uh, if you’re cooking something.”

“Yeah, so?” 

“If he’s making meatloaf again —”

“If she’s going to criticize my food,” Bobby added crossly, “tell her I’m making stew. Out of a can. And she can start making her own meals now —”

“Just, quiet.” Dean put a hand over Alex’s mouth, and his words cut Bobby off as well. In retaliation, Alex licked his hand, and he pulled away with a disgusted noise. “Ew! Gross.”

“She licked you, didn’t she?” Bobby guessed, amused. 

“Yeah. Just . . . can you make a few calls?”

“To who? Hogwarts?”

“Humor me.” 

“Fine.” 

“You’re a gentleman and a scholar.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” Bobby brushed off the hunters’s sarcasm. “Hey. How’s Memento doing over there? He caught you in any lies yet?” 

“Everything’s fine.” Dean glanced over at his brother. “Sam says hey.” Then he hung up, gently pushing Alex back onto the bed as he stood up. “Really? Really?”

 “That’s what you get,” Alex quipped, dramatically sprawling across the sheets. She tipped her head to watch the two Winchesters.

“You okay?” 

“Yeah.” Dean wiped his hand off on his jeans. 

“Bobby say anything?” 

“Nope.” 

 

 **T** he next ten minutes passed in utter silence. Alex hadn’t moved from the bed, staring mindlessly up at the ceiling. At one point she vaguely remembered hearing the other bed creak as Sam sat down on the corner, and with a tip of her head confirmed that he was still there. He was staring at the worn leather book in between his legs, brow furrowed in concentration.

Dean had relocated to the table. The loud sigh and the closing of his laptop startled Alex out of her thoughts. She watched as his gaze flickered down to the worn leather book Sam was skimming through. “Dad never wrote anything about dragons. I promise. I’d remember if I read _The Neverending Story_ in there.” 

Sam looked up slightly, eyes unfocusing slightly. “Hey,” he suddenly asked, “did we hunt a skinwalker recently?” 

Alex blinked in confusion, and Dean shook his head. “Doesn’t ring a bell. Why?” 

“I don’t know. Just, deja vu or something. Are you sure? I could have sworn . . .”

“You got to remember, your eggs are still pretty scrambled, right? But yeah, I’m sure.” Alex tipped her head in confusion. Obviously they still weren’t telling Sam about his soulless escapades.

“All right. Yeah.” Sam nodded, buying what his brother said. “Never mind.” 

Dean’s phone rang, and he answered. “Hey, Bobby. What you got?” There was a short pause as he listened, and then he nodded. “Dr. Visyak, S.F.U. Got it. Thanks.” He hung up and pushed back his chair, getting to his feet. “Alright.” He nodded in Alex’s direction. “Get packed. We’re heading to San Fransisco.” 

“We?” Sam repeated in confusion. “Dean, what about this —”

“You’re staying,” Dean clarified. “Alex and I are going.”

“Why me?” 

“The farther away you are from these virgin-eating dragons the better.” 

“Dean, I’m an angel.”

“ _Alex_ , I don’t care. Get your things.”

“ _Tatanu_.” The Enochian word left her mouth before she could stop herself, and she stood up, stalking over to where her bag lay on her ground. She wasn’t sure what the word actually meant; something like _of Wormwood_ , she was pretty sure. Definitely an insult. 

If Dean heard, he probably didn’t care. “Ready?”

“Yeah.” 

“W-Wait. Did Bobby say where these things like to park?”

“No.”

“Great. Back to the lore.”

“Which says what? They live in Middle Earth?” 

Alex chuckled in amusement, but Sam just frowned. “No. Caves.”

“You’re such as nerd.”

“I’m not the one who knows _Elvish_.” 

Dean just rolled his eyes and walked out the door.

Alex sullenly followed Dean out to the Impala, throwing her bag into the backseat before sliding into the front seat beside Dean. The engine purred to life and the car pulled out into the road. She sighed again. 

“Stop pouting.” 

“I wanted to stay with Sam.”

“Yeah, well, it’s safer for you to go with me.” 

“Screw you.”

 

 **T** en hours later they were pulling into the excluded driveway of a large house. Alex tossed her fast food bag into the backseat. “Do I have to come inside?” 

“Get up off your ass and come inside.” Dean’s patience was wearing thin with her, so Alex decided it was just best to do what he said. This wasn’t a battle even remotely worth fighting. She got out of the car and subserviently followed him up to the door. Dean pressed the buzzer, and Alex faintly heard it resonate through the house. 

“Yes?” A voice came through the small metallic box.

Dean leaned down to look into it. “Dr. Visyak. My name is Dean Winchester. This is . . . Alex.” 

“Office hours are Monday through Friday.”

“Bobby Singer sent me,” Dean added. Silence. “Hello?” Nothing. Dean straightened up with a disappointed noise. A second later the door opened, and Dean smiled. “Hi.” 

“Bobby Singer,” she repeated, gesturing for them to come inside. “Tell him something for me next time you see him.”

“Hmm?” Dean followed her into the living room. Alex trailed behind, closing the heavy wooden oak door behind her. 

“Actually kick him in the jewels. That’s more poetic.” Dr. Visyak leaned against her oak desk, a glass of some sort of clear drink in her hand. Alex could smell the alcohol. 

“No love lost between you two, hmm?” 

“No. Just the opposite.” 

“Oh?” Dean turned from where he was studying a bust on the mantle. 

“That’s his story to tell. He’s an idiot.” She mindlessly tapped the rim of her glass with her thumb before motioning to the white couch. “So, what’s this about?” 

“Well, uh . . .” Dean hesitated as he sat, glancing at Alex before admitting, “Dragons.” 

“Really?” Dr. Visyak seemed unconvinced. She stepped forward to stand between the two matching white chairs. 

“What? No twelve-sided dice joke?”

“We can joke about them because they’ve disappeared. But they aren’t funny. At all.” The woman circled around to sit in one of the chairs. Following her example, Alex sat on the couch beside Dean.

“Well, one just flew stateside.” 

“Are you sure?” 

Dean nodded. “Fits the lore to a tee.” 

“Flying, claws, stealing gold and virgins,” Alex confirmed. “Sure sounds like one.” 

The woman paused. “B-But how?” she finally asked, confusion filling her voice as she slowly believed what she was told. “I mean, why? It’s been seven hundred years!”

“Banner crop of crazy all the way around these days, doc.”

“So you want to know how to kill it.” 

“That’s right.”

“Well, you’ll need a blade.”

“Uh, okay. What kind of blade?” 

“One forged with dragon’s blood.”

Ale narrowed her eyes in confusion. “A sword,” she finally said, everything sounding very familiar. “We need a sword.” Dean looked at her, a question dancing in his eyes, and she nodded. Yeah, she remembered. 

“Exactly.”

“Okay. So you need one to kill one but you got to kill one to make one.” The hunter narrowed his eyes in confusion. “How does that work?” 

“Well, there aren't many dragon swords around anymore. Five or six tops, worldwide. I mean, there’s the Sword of St. George, and of course Excalibur, And theres —”

“You know a lot about this stuff, don’t you?”

“Well I sure as hell better. I have one in my basement.” 

“You have one,” Dean repeated.

Dr. Visyak stood up, motioning for them to follow her. “Finding it took two decades, countless hours, and some really bad sex with am eastern European ambassador, but yeah.” She lead them down the stairs and pushed open a door before letting them peer inside. 

Alex looked under Dean’s arm, eyes widening slightly. In the center of the room sat a large rock, and out of that rock protruded the silver blade of a sword. Its hilt gleamed in the artificial light, and Alex couldn’t hold back the grin on her face. 

“That is not real.” Dean’s grin was as big as her own. “Is that real? Is is Excalibur?”

“No. This . . . this is the Sword of Brunswick. Love of my life.” 

“So, uh, what’s with the cement shoe?” Dean circled around the stone, his eyes sparkling with excitement. However, he managed to keep it out of his voice.

“You know, binding sword to stone use to be all the rage. To protect them.”

Dean grunted in agreement. “Alright, well how do we get this puppy out?”

The woman actually laughed. “Well, come on. You know this one. We need a brave knight who’s willing to step up and fight the beast.” 

“Right.” Dean rubbed his hands on his jeans. “Alright, well, I’ll, uh, give it a whirl. Do you mind?” Without waiting for an answer he stepped forward, rolling up his sleeves. Alex watched as he wrapped his hands around the blade and tugged. Nothing. He pulled harder, bracing his foot against the rock, but slipped, keeling to one side. Alex barely held back a smirk. 

“You okay?” 

“Never better,” Dean promised, getting back up. He tried again, muscles straining. “Oh, son of a bitch!” he exclaimed, stepping back. “That’s really in there!”

“Yeah, afraid so.” 

Alex stepped into the room, moving towards the rock. Something pushed gently against her, warm and comforting. 

“Well, I have another idea,” Dean declared. 

“What?” 

“Well, you're not going to like it.” Dean moved to the door. “I’ve got some C4 in the trunk —”

“What?! No!” 

“Dean.” Alex stopped him, grabbing onto his arm. 

“You got a better idea?” 

“Yeah. Let me give it a shot before you turn this thing into Narsil.” 

Dean rolled his eyes. “Fine. But if I can’t get it out —” 

Alex ignored him. She stepped up towards the stone, brushing a hand over the stone. The warmth returned, sparking between the rock and her grace. She wrapped her fingers around the hilt. Even in that moment she could tell the sword was quite stuck. She closed her eyes, pushing her grace down the sword and the stone. A word sparked through her mind, one Balthazar had used a very long time ago. “ _Dalagare_ ,” she murmured. _Give._

Nothing. She heard Dean shift impatiently, but she refused to give up. She could feel the power in the rock, rolling like gentle waves against hers. “ _Da la ga ra_ ,” she repeated. Her wings flared out, and her voice grew sharp with command. 

The stone gave way, and the sword slid out easily. Alex smiled, turning to point the blade at Dean. “Never underestimate an angel.”

 

 **“Y** ou actually got a _sword_?” Sam stared at the weapon that lay on the table. He picked it up with a grin.

“Yeah.” Dean tossed his bag on the ground. 

“It was actually stuck in a stone,” Alex explained excitedly. “Dean tried to pull it out and totally failed.”

“You cheated,” Dean grumbled. Seeing Sam’s confused face, he elaborated, “She used Enochian.” 

“Yeah. I told the stone to gimme in Enochian,” Alex huffed. 

“It took her two tries,” Dean added defensively. 

“Okay.” Alex sat down on the bed, pointing at finger at the Winchester. “The first time I used informal Enochian. Second time I, uh, used the formal spell-chanting-thing Enochian.”

Her words were completely lost on the Winchesters. Dean turned to his brother. “So. Where are we on the caves?”

“Nowhere. Sewers, on the other hand . . .” He pointed to the map. “Here. Check it out.” Dean joined in at the table, and Sam pointed at the upper right corner . “So, two of the disappearances happened within a mile of here. So I think we start here and work our way around.”

“Awesome.” Dean’s voice gave away his disgust. “Who doesn’t love sewers? Let’s go.” He walked over to the other side of the bed and grabbed his hunting bag before going back and taking up the sword. Throughout all of this, Sam didn’t move, a long breath leaving his lips. Alex tipped her head, waiting to see if he was going to protest. Dean noticed too. “What?” 

A pause. Then Sam shook it off. “Nothing. Uh, yeah. Let’s go.” 

“You sure?” 

“Yeah. Come on.” And with that, Sam led the way out the door. 

 

 **“U** gh!” Dean flinched away, covering his nose. “God! Just when I get use to one smell, I hit a new flavor.”

Alex huffed, batting away a disgusting-looking cobweb. “You’re just _now_ smelling this?” she grumbled. “I’ve been smelling it for the past two minutes!” 

“Yeah, well, drawback to angel senses. For once can’t say I’m jealous.” One of Dean’s hands went up to cover his mouth for a brief second. “Dude, we’ve been here for hours. There is nothing. The lore is off.” He stopped in the middle of a crosswalk, and Sam stepped forward to stand beside him, flashlight darting off down one way. “Hey, what if, uh . . .” Dean nudged his brother in the shoulder, “What if dragons like nice hotels?” 

“What is that?” Sam focused his flashlight down the corridor past Dean. 

“What?” Dean turned. “Holy crap.” He moved forward towards whatever it was, letting Alex move so she could see. Sam’s flashlight was focused on a pile of gold. A small pile, but a pile nevertheless. Dean knelt down and picked up a golden watch. “Okay,” he admitted, “maybe there are dragons here.” 

At those words, Alex pulsed out her grace, feeling for any sign of life. She had been doing it every few minutes as they moved, desperate to pick up something — anything to get them out of here. 

Sam turned. “Wait, Dean. Not now.” He moved off straight ahead, obviously having seen something. Alex followed, curiosity peaked. “Check this out.” 

Alex heard small clinking noises as Dean hurriedly grabbed a handful of gold before following after. Light came from up ahead, and Alex slowed as she recognized it as the light from several candles. “A shrine?” she questioned quietly. 

“Alter, more likely.” Sam’s flashlight darted over the leather-bound book. “A little arts-and-crafty for a giant bat, right?” Dean grunted in agreement, picking the book up to study it,

Alex pulsed her grace out again, then froze. “There’s someone here,” she growled. 

The two Winchesters immediately spun around, tense and on guard. “Dragon?” 

Alex shook her head, feeling again. “No. Human.” She immediately took off down the corridor. “Hello?”

“Hello? Is someone there?” a young female voice answered her. “Hello?” 

Sam and Dean passed her quickly, and Alex found them kneeling in a large open area, staring down into the grate. Alex pushed her grace out, making sure they were alone before glancing downwards. Several young woman were down there, dirty and scared. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” Dean was promising. “We’re going to get you out of there.” 

“Quick. He’s coming back.” The girl who had been talking to Dean immediately shrunk away. 

_Coming back_? Suddenly Sam was gone. Alex spun around to see him on the other side of the room. A man stood in front of Dean, and Alex took a step back. 

Large leathered wings unfurled from his shoulders, bigger than her own. The arches were scaled, and black claw-like nails protruded from their joints. Scales dotted the skin on his forearms and face, and a line of small horns led up from his eyebrows towards his head. 

A second dragon, similar in all respects except with blood-red scales and eyes, landed in front of Dean, while the other one stayed focused on her. “Hey there, Sister,” he rumbled, voice deep and dark. “Been a long time since I’ve seen one of you.” 

Alex drew her angel blade, her own feathered wings flared out in a display of warning. 

The dragon stepped forward, own wings reaching upwards towards the light. “You wouldn’t hurt one of your own blood, now would you?” 

“You’re not my blood.” Alex kept the blade pointed squarely at the dragon’s chest. A quick glance behind her showed Dean in a standoff with the other one, the Sword of Brunswick in his hands. 

“We’re about as close as it comes.” The dragon stopped advancing, eyes flickering down to the weapon in her hands. “Our Mother made us after you, after all. Or, at least as close as she could get,” he added with a small chuckle, leathery wing flapping once for emphasis. “She added a few . . . touches of her own.” 

There was a grunt behind her, and she saw Sam and the other dragon in hand-to-hand combat. The dragon in front of her turned around, shooting towards Dean. Alex rushed forward, wielding her blade. She brought it downwards, but the dragon fighting Sam spun around just in time. His hand went up to block it, and he screamed in pain as it cut into him. However, he held on tight. His hand sizzled, glowing red with heat. Then he collapsed, the sword in his back. Alex spun around to find the other one.

Large leathery wings pulled in tight then exploded outwards, propelling the dragon straight past her. Alex managed to lash out on pure instinct, catching him in the back of the leg. However, it didn’t slow him down, and he was out of her sight within the blink of an eye. Dean was laying on the ground, the wind knocked clean out of him. 

Alex knelt beside him, one hand pulling up his eyelids to look at his eyes. “Careful,” she warned, dutifully checking for any sign of concussion. “Those wings’ll get you every time. You okay?” 

“Yeah, yeah.” Dean pulled himself to his feet. “Don’t worry. I didn’t hit my head.” 

“Okay.” Alex let him go. 

Sam was on his knees, trying to pry open the metal grate. “Dean!” He waved his brother over. “It won’t open. It’s welded shut.” He pointed to where the door had been fused to the metal frame. 

Dean motioned for Alex to approach. “Can you get it?”

Alex knelt beside Sam with a grimace. “It’s iron,” she whined. “I hate touching iron. It stings.” 

“Just do it.”

“Just do it,” Alex mimicked, reaching down and grasping the grate. She forced her grace into it, trying to resist pulling away. She pulled hard, and the welded material gave away. She fell back onto her ass with a huff, trying to shake away the ringing in her ears. She sat there as the Winchesters helped the girls out, vaguely watching as they stumbled away. 

Then gentle hands helped her to her feet. “You okay?” Dean took her head in her hands, staring worriedly into her eyes. “I said your name five times.”

“W-What?” Alex focused on Dean’s face. “Sorry. I, uh, I really don’t like touching my grace to iron.”

“Concern duly noted.” Dean gently nudged her towards the exit. “Come on. Sam’s helping the girls out. Let’s go.” 

 

Within twenty four hours Alex found herself stumbling in through the front door at Bobby’s. Sam and Dean were out back parking the Impala, and she was given the job of handing Bobby what they had found. “Bobby?” Alex stepped towards the study, grace gently pushing outwards to find him. 

Footsteps echoed on the stairs, and the eldest hunter turned the corner. “You’re back.”

“Yeah.” Alex held out the leather-bound book. “We found this in the dragon’s, uh, lair. Thought it might be useful.” 

Bobby grunted in acknowledgement. “Great,” he muttered. However, he accepted the book and disappeared into the study. As soon as he was out of sight, Alex disappeared upstairs. 

 

 **A** loud knocking woke her up. Alex rolled out of her bed, straightening her wrinkled clothes before opening the door. “What?” 

The hall was empty. Alex groaned loudly and stomped into the hall and down the stairs. Bobby was just sitting down in the study, and the Winchesters were already gathered around. 

Alex sat down on the corner of the desk with a huff. “Thanks for waking me.”

“I found something.” Bobby pointed to the book that was open to one of the first pages. “Now, as near as I can figure, this dates back to about the fourteenth century.”

“What language is it?” Sam asked. 

“Da Vinci code. Real obscure Latinate. Gonna take me my golden years to translate it all. Oh, and FYI — this ain’t paper.” 

“No?” Alex looked curious, and reached out to touch it.

“What is it?” Dean added. 

“Human skin.” 

Both Dean and Sam looked disgusted, and Alex drew her hand away. “Oh.” 

“Yeah. I’m fairly clear on the first part. It basically describes this place. It’s like the backside of your worst nightmares. It’s all blood and bones and darkness. Filled with the bodies and souls of all things hungry, nasty, and sharp.” 

“Monsters?” Sam guessed. 

“Purgatory,” Alex said at the same time. 

“Looks like it. According to this, it goes by a lot of names, most of which I can’t pronounce, but yeah. Purgatory’s one of ‘em.”

“Purgatory,” Dean repeated. “Awesome. Well, that is good to know. So you’re saying that these, uh, dragon freaks were squatting in the sewers and reading tone poems about Purgatory?” 

“Oh, no no no.” Bobby shook his head decisively. “They were reading an instruction manual.” 

Alex’s face darkened, and she pulled her wings in tight. “Why?”

“I don’t know. But if you’re nuts enough to want access to a place that gnarly, this book will show you how to open a door.”

“Door to Purgatory.” Dean blinked. “Well, I know a demon who would have loved to know about that. So how do you open this door?” 

Bobby shrugged. “Ask Cloverfield. I’m pretty sure he has the page.” 

“Why would they want to open the door?” Alex repeated herself. 

“Don’t know for sure. But I got a pretty good idea.” Bobby turned the page in the skin-book. “You see, this ain’t about taking a vacation over there. This is all about opening the door to let something in. Or out.” 

“Bring something here. Why?”

“I’m working on it.”  
   
“Could you give us something?” 

“I got a name,” the hunter offered helpfully. 

“Okay.” 

“Mother.” 

“Mother?” 

“Oh.” Alex drew in a breath. “The, uh, the dragon said something about his, uh, Mother.” 

“So you got any idea what this is?” 

“Unfortunately yeah. Mother of all, right?” 

Bobby nodded. “Well, that ain’t a good sign if you already know about it.” He looked over at the Winchesters. “That means it’s coming here. Fast.” 

 Alex studied the ground. “If it helps, I don’t know a lot about her. I don’t think she was really important. Sorry.” 

“It’s fine. Anything you know is of help.”

“Uh, I don’t know much. Mother of all supernatural creatures. Her name’s Eve, if that’s any help. I . . . I don’t know if there’s any relation to the Biblical Eve. That’s about it off the top of my head.” Alex shrugged. 

Dean nodded. “That’s fine. How about some lunch?” He fished around in his pockets and tossed the keys to Sam. “Your turn.” 

Sam rolled his eyes. “Fine.” 

“I’ll come.” Alex jumped off of the desk, reaching out to take Sam’s large hand in hers. “They just put in this _really_ good Vietnam restaurant —”

“Uh, I can go by myself.” Sam awkwardly pulled himself free and hurried away. Alex watched, hurt. 

Bobby huffed. “What’s up his ass?” 

“He’s been that way since he got back,” Dean said flatly. “Something’s wrong. I’ll talk to him.” 

“No, it’s fine.” Alex moved towards the door. “I, uh, I’ll take care of him.” With a despondent sigh she added, “I think I know what’s wrong.”


	10. Unforgiven

**S** he found Sam wandering among the cars. “Sam?” Alex approached quietly, wings folded forward in worry. “We need to talk.”

“Can we not?” Sam’s voice was flat, and Alex frowned. “I really don’t want to.”

“It’s not your fault.”

Sam stopped in his tracks, and his shoulders fell. “I remember it all, you know. Everything he did.”

Alex winced, but forced herself to keep moving forward. She circled around to stand in front of Sam, watching as he slightly turned away. “It wasn’t you. I don’t blame you, Sam. Look at me.” She waited until Sam looked up. “It’s fine; I’m over it.”

“No, you don’t understand.” Anger danced in the hunter’s gaze. “I remember _everything_ Lucifer did. I felt it just like he did, I remember feeling every damn thing he said leave my tongue.”

“It wasn’t you,” Alex repeated.

“Yeah, it was. It felt like I was saying those words, like I was hurt you, held you. It felt like I killed Cas, and Bobby, and beat Dean within an inch of his life!” Sam turned away, muscles tense and fists clenched. “And now I . . . I can’t even look at you without feeling guilty.”

Alex stepped up beside him. “I’m sorry.” She sighed, eyes falling closed. “I’ll do whatever you need to help, though. I don’t want things to be awkward between us.”

“Yeah.” Sam turned slightly to study her. “But . . . you seriously don’t have a problem with me — with what I did?”

Alex shrugged. “I’ve been through a lot of shit. Trust me. What y — What _Lucifer_ did, it wasn’t that bad. I, uh, I guess I’ve made peace with him, okay?” Seeing Sam’s expression, she dipped her head, embarrassed. “It’s complicated.”

Their conversation was cut short when Dean approached. “Sam?” he called, searching for his brother.

“We’re over here.” Alex waved him down, watching as Sam turned away from her once again.

“Come on. We’re heading out. Bobby’s gonna keep working on this whole ‘Mother of all’ thing.” Dean looked over at Alex. “You in?”

“Yeah. Sure.” Alex watched Sam for any of discomfort before agreeing. “Sounds good.”

 

 **T** hree days ticked by. Currently, they were holed up in a motel two hours west of Cincinnati. Alex was laying across a large bed, tossing a tennis ball against the far wall. Sam sat on the bed next to her, intently watching the news. Alex barely listened; she had little interest in the world’s petty problems.

The door opened, and Dean walked through. “What are you watching?”

“Just trying to catch up.” Sam turned off the tv and tossed the remote next to Alex. She flinched as it landed by her head, almost missing the ball. “So . . .” Sam continued. “Mel Gibson really took a turn this past year, huh?”

“Or he’s possessed,” Dean joked. “Seriously. Think about it.” He tossed his brother what looked like a hot pocket wrapped in paper food wrap. “So, I just got off the blower with Bobby.” Another hot pocket landed beside Alex, and she sat up, unwrapping it with a frown.

“Oh yeah? You got anything else on this whole ‘Mother of all’ thing?”

“Um, no. Nothing solid. He says it’s quiet.”

Sam’s phone dinged, and the hunter stood up. “Quiet like ‘quiet,’ or quiet like ‘too quiet’?” he asked, walked over to his bag which lay beside the young angel.

“When is it ever just quiet?”

“Right.” Sam pulled out his cell phone and frowned. “Hmm.”

Dean looked up from where he was unwrapping his own meal. “What?” In response, Sam tossed him his phone, and Dean looked down at the screen. “What, are those coordinates?” He looked up at his brother. “Who’s it from?”

“I have no idea.” Sam pulled out his laptop and sat down on the bed, leaving Alex to scramble backwards as it dipped, wings out to keep her balance. He held up a hand, and Dean tossed him back his phone. He then proceeded to type them into his search bar.

Alex leaned over his shoulder, watching curiously. “Who else would have your number?” she questioned. Her gaze darted over to Dean, who had stood and was making his way to the bathroom.

Sam shrugged. “Well, um, the coordinates are for Bristol, Rhode Island.” He cleared his search engine and typed in _Bristol Rhode Island newspaper_.

Alex shifted so she was sitting beside him. “What are you looking for? You think this might be a case?”

“Maybe. Hard to say.” He redialed the number and set it on speaker phone. Alex watched him scroll through the Bristol Sun.

“Hold up.” Alex leaned across him to point at a article. “What’s that?”

“What?” Sam clicked on it, and his brow furrowed slightly as he read the title. “Weird.”

At that moment, Dean reentered the room. “Well?”

“Uh, Bristol, Rhode Island, where three women disappeared last week.” Sam quickly skimmed the article. “Apparently the, uh, victims seemed to vanish in thin air.”

“Dragons?” Alex suggested.

“Maybe,” Sam conceded. “It’s unlikely — nope.” He turned the screen so Alex could see the name his cursor was hanging over. “Two of them were married.”

“Probably not virgins then.” Dean glanced over at the phone laying by Sam’s side. “Find out who the text’s from?”

“I don’t know.” Sam picked it up and stared down at the screen. “It just kept ringing.”

“What’s that about?” Dean snorted in confusion. He picked up the half-empty coffee pot and his mug, glancing at his brother over his shoulder.

“Does seem kinda odd,” Alex agreed. “Texting you like that then refusing to pick up.”

“I don’t know. Maybe a hunter looking for backup, throwing us a case? Who knows how many hunters I even met, working with the Campbells, you know?” He closed his laptop before adding, “But I think we should go.”

“Whoa, wait. We’re just gonna drop everything to go —”

“Dude, two minutes ago you weren’t doing _anything_.”

“You got mysterious coordinates from Mr. ‘X’ leading to a mysterious town? That doesn’t throw up red flags for you?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. But that doesn’t mean we can just ignore a bunch of missing girls, right?”

“I don’t know,” Alex began. “Call me crazy, but this might be a trap. You went awol for an entire year — who knows what kind of shit you fucked up.” She felt Dean throw her a disapproving glance at her language but purposefully ignored it. “Point is, how do we know these missing girls aren’t a trap in themselves?”

“And what if they’re not?” Sam countered. “You said it yourself,” he added, turning to Dean. “It’s been a strange year. There’s been a lot of crazy happening, Dean. And it’s our job to stop it.”

Dean hesitated, eyes flickering between Alex and Sam before nodding. “Okay,” he finally agreed. “We’ll check it out. But if things get squirrelly, we dump out, okay?”

Sam nodded. “Yeah,” he wholeheartedly agreed. He watched Dean walk past before putting his laptop back in his bag.

“Wait. We’re going _now_?”

“Fourteen hour drive. We’ll get there late tonight.”

 

**November 17th, 2011**

**Bristol, Rhode Island**

**E** xactly fourteen and a half hours later, Alex found herself swinging her legs from side to side in her bar stool. Dean and Sam sat to her right; Sam was staring at his glass, and Dean was flirting lightheartedly with the — admittedly quite hot — bartender. Alex slid her glass back and forth between her hands, gaze focused on her license that lay in front of her. Sydney Reece, age twenty two, born in Superior, Nebraska. Two brothers, one young sister. Came from a nice family.

With a sigh, Alex slid the ID back into her pocket. She had backstories to all of her pseudonyms, all her FBI, CDC, police. It made them feel . . . real. And it made her life seem less so. Made it feel like it was just a story too.

There was a flutter of wings, and Alex turned in her seat, a wide smile across her face. “Cas!” she chirped, then cleared her throat, trying to get her voice back under control. “Hey.” She tipped her head up slightly, expecting and hoping a kiss.

It didn’t come. “Hello.” Castiel dipped his head at her, wings curling forward in greeting.

“Cas.” Dean turned his attention away from the woman to face the angel. “What brings you around?”

“There was a . . . lull in the fighting. I came by to see if everything was alright.”

It was obvious that the last sentence was directed at her, and Alex blushed slightly. “I’m _fine_ ,” she promised. She reached up, tugging gently on her angel’s tie. “Met some dragons. That was cool.” She tipped her head to the empty seat by her side. “Sit.”

Castiel did, eyebrow cocked in interest. “Dragons?” he repeated. “As in . . ?”

“Full on leather wings and horns? Yeah.”

“Wait.” Sam pushed on her far shoulder, causing her to spin inwards so she could look at him. “You mean they actually had wings?”

“Yeah! It was really cool.” Alex flared out her wings in emphasis. “They were really big. Bigger than a seraphim’s, smaller than an archangel’s. Then he had these sort or scales on parts of his arms and face. And horns on his forehead.” She drew two lines up from her eyebrows to her temples in demonstration. “You honestly didn’t see _any_ of that? Not even a bit?”

Dean shook his head. “Looks like a human to me.”

“Huh. It was pretty cool. He said his mother designed the dragons after us angels. Well, more or less.”

“Wait.” Castiel’s voice grew sharp. “You _talked_ with the dragon?”

“Well, he talked to me. I didn’t do much talking of my own.”

“We didn’t leave her alone,” Dean promised. “I mean, this thing took virgins, right? She didn’t leave our sight for a minute.”

Castiel’s eyes darkened. “Virgins?” he repeated.

Alex flicked him with her wing. “I was _fine_ ,” she repeated. “Stop worrying about me.”

“ _Iaida turs,_ I will always worry.” Castiel’s gaze flickered upwards. “I’m sorry. But I have to go.”

“It’s fine.” Alex tugged on his tie, pulling him close. She leaned up to kiss him gently. “Just, come back when you can. And . . . leave through the door.”

“Of course.” Castiel kissed her one more time. Then he walked away.

“So . . .” Sam studied the young angel. “You and Cas, huh?”

Alex blushed. “Yep.” She swirled the whiskey in her glass. “I guess. Bit of a, uh, a rocky start . . .”

“Yeah? How so?”

“How so?” Alex looked up at Sam, a smile of disbelief on her face. “You mean, apart from the fact that this totally came out of nowhere?”

“Okay okay okay.” Dean held up his hands. “In the dude’s defense, it didn’t _totally_ come out of nowhere.”

“What?” Alex shook her head. “You’re kidding.”

“Uh, no.” Dean looked over at his brother for support.

“Come on, Sam.” Alex turned in her seat to look at him. “You don’t think this whole Cas-and-me thing came out of thin air?”

Sam shrugged. “I mean, I guess it happened a little suddenly —”

“But he’d totally been in love with you for at _least_ a year before that.” Dean gestured towards Sam with his beer. “Right?”

“Yeah.”

“I mean, seriously. He was always staring at you. He always made sure you were okay. He smiled when you said something even remotely funny.” Dean listed them off on his fingers. “He, he made _small talk_ with you.” He set his beer down, staring Alex straight in the eyes. “The dude barely even talks to us when we ask him a question.”

“He’s right,” Sam concurred.

“Not to mention him coming when you called, him bringing you food, he asked me how —”

“Okay, okay. I get it.” Alex quickly cut Dean off. “Fine. I get it; he flirted with me or something, in his own weird, angel-y way. But this whole ‘mate’ thing was pretty weird, right?”

“It’s a little strange, yeah,” Dean conceded. He took a long drink before adding, “But then again, so is our life.”

“That’s a different kind of weird,” the angel argued, crossing her arms. “Killing a, a werewolf is one thing, having an angel come up and basically tell you you’re married is totally different!”

Dean just shrugged. He waved down the bartender and ordered a glass of scotch. “I guess,” he finally said, voice indifferent. “Same crazy, different breed.”

Alex rolled her eyes, trying to not let her frustration get the best of her. “I’m gonna go pee,” she finally muttered. She pushed herself off of the barstool and walked away.

 

 **A** lex pushed her way back out of the bathroom, scanning the bar for any sight of the Winchesters. She huffed in satisfaction to see that they had hardly moved, and she ducked through a tightly clustered group of men blocking her way.

She made it about halfway back to her seat before a hand grabbed her shoulder. Alex wrenched herself away, not looking back until the hand returned, turning her around. “Fuck off,” she grumbled, glaring up into the man’s eyes.

The guy just chuckled. Alcohol rolled off his breath in waves, and he took a sip from his beer before speaking. “Where you heading off to, lady?”

“Just drinking with some friends.” Alex turned to go once again, but was stopped.

“If you want, we can get out of here. Just you and me.” The man winked suggestively, and Alex barely held back a growl. “I can show you a pretty damn good time.”

“I have a boyfriend.”

“So?” the man scoffed. “You mean that idiot you were with earlier? Really?” Seeing Alex’s face he laughed. “That’s the best you could do?” When Alex once again moved to leave, he reached out, voice growing angry. “You gonna answer me?”

“Leave me alone!” Alex spun around, knocking his beer from his hand. It fell to the ground and shattered.

Anger flashed in the man’s eyes, and he took a menacing step forward. “What the fuck?” He lashed out. Alex blocked the blow with her left forearm before throwing two hard punches to his chest. Rage pulsed through her, and when the man doubled over in pain, and she brought her elbow down on his spine, knocking him to the floor. She kicked him hard in the stomach, watching him jerk in pain. The bar fell completely silent, and the rage drained away. Alex took a shaky step back at what she had done. “I said leave me alone!” She saw Sam and Dean staring at her, eyes wide in shock, and she fled the bar.

 

 **S** he fled down the street, eventually slowing to a walk, pulling her jacket tightly around her. It had started to snow, and a biting wind swirled through the streets. She hurried down the sidewalk, trying to get back to the house. Her phone rang, but she ignored it, quickening her step.

The wind picked up. Alex’s immediately flared up her wings to shield herself. However, the wind slipped through her thick feathers, and within seconds her body and wings were numb. Without thinking, Alex’s feet carried her up the walkway of the nearest building, and she hurried inside. The heavy oak door closed behind her, and she opened her eyes in the warm air, looking around. A church. She was in a church.

Alex furiously rubbed her frozen hands together before reaching into her pocket and pulling out her phone. It took several tries, but she managed to dial Dean’s cell. It rang, and rang again, then went to voicemail. “Hey . . .” Her mouth was numb with the cold, and she took a deep breath to steady her voice. “I’m-m at the church on . . . uh, uh, the s-street w-with the gas station and, uh, Big Az? It’s too c-cold to walk back. C-Can you come pick me up? Thanks, man.” She hung up, hoping Dean bothered to checked his phone. Not sure what else to do, Alex wandered into the sanctuary and sat down in one of the pews. Her eyes wandered upwards to the front, where Jesus hung on a cross, looking down on the empty seats.

“I thought I heard someone come in.”

Alex turned around, surprised. A man stood there, maybe thirty or forty, with short brown hair, and angular face, and soft eyes on either side of a sharp nose. “Sorry,” she stammered. “I can leave —”

“On a night like this?” The man approached, holding out a coffee cup that Alex hadn’t noticed until now. “Please. Stay. It’s not often we get visitors at this hour.”

“Thank you.” Alex gratefully accepted the cup, humming in delight as the warmth rushed up her hands. The man sat in the pew in front of her, twisting to maintain eye contact, and Alex gently pushed her grace against him. She felt his soul, along with something else? Alex ran a quick eye over him again, gaze settling on the white collar. “Thank you, Father,” she repeated. Righteousness. That had to be what she was feeling. Could you feel that?

“Paul. My name is Paul Coates.” The man took a sip from his own cup and Alex mimicked him, heyesclosing as the hot liquid ran down her throat. “What brings you here?” Paul asked. “Like I said, we don’t get many visitors.”

“It was too cold to walk,” Alex admitted quietly. Her eyes drifted back up to Jesus. His face . . . He looked sad.

“Christian?”

“More or less.” Alex sighed, eyes falling back down to her coffee. “I . . . does it ever just feel like . . . like God’s abandoned us?”

Father Paul chuckled. “Every day.” His laughter died, and his voice grew soft. “God has his own plan that not even his greatest angels understand. It may feel like our Father is gone, but he will never abandon us.” He studied Alex closely. “What were you doing walking on a night like this?”

Alex’s gaze dropped to the ground. “I . . . got frustrated. Walked out of a bar.”

“Mm. I . . . I’ve been told I’m a very good listener, if you want to talk about it.”

Alex studied his eyes. The edges crinkled softly when he smiled. Her gaze fell to her lap. “It’s really nothing.”

“Problems in a close relationship?”

“You’re good.” Alex chuckled, shifted in her seat. “I guess, yeah, there’s some problems there. My, uh . . . boyfriend — Cas — we, uh, we don’t really see eye to eye.”

“Hm.” Father Paul took a small sip of his drink. “I’m sorry to hear that. Cas. That’s a strange name.”

“He’s — he’s not from around here.”

“From where?”

“I-It’s a really small country,” Alex stammered. “You’ve probably never heard of it.”

Thankfully the man didn’t push her. “Different country. Different culture?”

“Uh, definitely.”

“And might this have something to do with your, as you say, ‘not seeing eye to eye’?”

Alex nodded. “Yeah. A lot, actually.” She sighed. “He, uh, we have different ideas about what a relationship should be. His, uh, culture isn’t big on dating. They kinda more into . . .” She trailed off, not sure how to finish her thoughts.

To her surprise, Paul nodded. “I understand. Arranged marriages, or something of the sort.”

“Sure. Except it isn’t the parents that decide the marriage part.” She added under her breath, “And I wasn’t exactly told.”

“That is unusual.”

“I mean, my friends keep saying that he was flirting with me for like, a year or something.” Alex snorted in disbelief. “They think that I’m just too stupid to have seen it.”

A pause. “You’re not stupid, Alex.”

“I know.” Suddenly Alex’s wings flared wide in fear, and she swallowed thickly. “I never told you my name.”

Father Coates blinked in surprise, and slowly set down his cup of coffee. “No, I suppose you didn’t,” he conceded.

“How the hell do you know who I am?” Alex jumped to her feet, fists balled. Her hands went up to her back, and she pulled out her angel blade, prepared to defend herself.

“Alex —”

“Get away from me! God dammit —”

Suddenly Paul Coates got to his feet. “Do _not_ use my Father’s name in vain.” Wings exploded from his back, flaring high into the sky in a startling burst of anger.

Alex immediately stretched hers to the ground. “You’re an angel,” she breathed.

“As are you.”

Alex studied the coffee colored wings that stretched far across the isle. “How do you know who I am?” she huffed, very much wary around the unknown angel.

“My sons talk about you quite a bit.”

A wing twitched, and Alex glanced at them. The wings were large; smaller than say, Lucifer’s, but larger than Castiel’s. She wondered if he was just a powerful seraphim, or if what was before her was one of the seven archangels. “Sons?” she finally asked. “You have a mate?”

“Yes, I had one. However, she is no longer among us.” The angel’s wings folded in, primaries brushing along the ground. “Both Koda and Ezekiel have grown quite fond of you.”

Alex’s wings stretched even lower in reverence. “You’re Cassiel,” she breathed out.

“The one and only.”

“B-But how’s that possible? I felt your soul. N-Not your grace.”

Amusement filled the archangel’s voice. “There are many things you still need to learn, _enay_.”

 _Angel_. Alex knew that Enochian word well. “I know, I know. I just . . . I can’t believe it’s actually you.”

Cassiel nodded. “Please. Sit.”

“B-But what are you doing here?” Alex did as he asked. “What about the war?”

“I haven’t chosen sides,” Cassiel explained calmly. “While I feel that I must side with my brother, I do not wish to release Michael and Lucifer only to watch them fight.”

Alex nodded. “Gabriel’s the same way. What about, uh, uh,” she paused, curious about the other remaining archangel’s loyalty, but momentarily forgetting his name. “Uh, Remiel?”

She didn’t miss the way the archangel’s gaze darkened. “Have you met my brother?”

“Uh, not really. Um, once maybe. He, uh, he guards the prophets, right?”

“That’s right.” Cassiel frowned. “He’s chosen Raphael.”

“I take it you’re not a fan of him.”

“Remiel has an . . . unholy temper. He looked up to Lucifer as his role model. Some of us are worried that he could be worse of a threat to heaven than Lucifer if given the chance.”

“Oh.”

“Yes.” Cassiel nodded solemnly. He sighed, then his attitude changed. “How is Castiel doing? You two still haven’t joined.”

Alex finally felt his grace pushing against her, warm and overwhelming even though she could tell that he was holding back. “Yeah.” Alex’s gaze flickered downwards. “Not yet. It’s . . . it’s complicated.”

“I know. It’s a big change for humans.” Cassiel reached out, taking Alex’s hand. “I understand that Castiel’s attempts haven’t been the most effective or the most . . . tactful.”

“So you’ve heard about it.”

“Several angels have heard about it. However, I’ve given him some advice, and hopefully he can remedy the situation.” He ignored Alex’s huff. “Cut him some slack, _enay_. He’s new at this too, and personal experience has taught me that approaching a human about this proposition is very difficult.”

Alex sighed. “I know. But still.”

“But still,” the archangel conceded.

“I . . . I still don’t get the whole, uh, consummation thing,” Alex admitted quietly. “It’s like . . . he keeps pushing me, and honestly? I guess I’m just not ready.”

“Is it the bonding that scares you, or the actual sexual intercourse?”

“I’m not _scared_ ,” Alex retorted stubbornly. “And why does it matter? He want sex, I don’t.”

Cassiel thought for a long second, biting his lip slightly as he formulated his phrasing. “I don’t think I would say he ‘wants sex,’ ” he finally said. “At least, not in the way you see it. For him, and for most angels, sex is the means to joining graces. We may find it enjoyable, but we definitely don't lust after or desire it like humans do. It’s a means to an end.”

“But he keeps _pushing_ me.”

“I can’t blame him, Alex. You see his actions as forward, but he sees _yours_ as rejection.” When Alex made a questioning noise he smiled. “Until you join your grace with Castiel, you are open and free to choose any angel as your mate. There’s nothing binding you to him, or him to you. He see your not consummating with him as the possibility of you still considering other angels. His being ‘forward’ is him loving you too much to let you walk away. An angel’s love lasts forever. He needs to know that he has that love.”

Alex sat still for several seconds, processing what she had been told. “It’s still weird,” she finally said.

“I understand.”

Alex’s phone rang, and she jumped to her feet. “Yeah?” She quickly answered.

“Heya, Pip.”

“Dean. Hey.”

“Think you can find another way back? Storm’s died down.”

“You picked up that bartender?” Alex smiled. “Nice.”

“Yeah, so I’m a little busy. So . . .”

Alex looked over at Cassiel. “I think I can get back.” She hung up, a shy smile on her face. “Hey . . . Think you can give me a lift back to my place?”

Cassiel nodded. “Of course. Where is it you need to go?”

“Uh, the abandoned house on the corner of Highland and Beam.”

Cassiel nodded, holding out his hand. “Ready?”

“Can I take my drink?” Alex looked down at her coffee. She was warm, yes, but her fingers and toes still had a slight chill to them.

“I don’t see why not.” Cassiel patiently waited for her to pick it up and take a long sip before she took his hand. He unfurled his large wings and thrust them down.

The ground shifted slightly, and then Alex was standing in the hall. She looked around to see the bathroom door closed, and her grace told her that Sam was in there. Cassiel was gone, and she walked over her bag and quickly changed.

Sam stepped out of the bathroom as she pulled on a shirt. “You’re back.”

“Yeah. Met an angel after I uh . . . stormed out of the bar. He gave me a lift back.”

“Huh.” Sam walked over to the small bed. “Well, uh, I was just heading to bed. It’s been a while since I’ve had a good night’s sleep.”

“I’ll going too.” Alex followed, crawling under the covers beside him. “At least this house has heat.” She curled up, back pressed against his side. “You’re warm,” she purred, snuggling in close.

“You’re really cold.” Sam awkwardly put his arm around by her head.

Alex reached up, pulling the warm limb close. The hunter started to protest, but she silenced him. “Shh. Warm.”

 

 **D** ean took them to lunch the next day. He had swung by the police station before returning to the motel, and know had all of the profile folders on the three missing women. Right now, they were sitting around a square table. Dean was studying the three missing posters, mindlessly finishing his beer. Alex sat next to him, staring at the far wall, where a Jolly Roger hung on the wall. A pirate themed restaurant. Huh.

“Well, freak’s got a type,” Dean finally said. “Brunettes.” He glanced at another poster. “Whoa. This one’s got a bit of a wild side.” He showed Sam, and Alex craned her neck so she could see. “It’s all in the eyes, Sam. See it?”

Sam’s expression told Alex he felt the same way she did about Dean’s comment. “Alright. Well, apart from your deep insight there, these woman actually have nothing in common. Different jobs, different friends, different anything. So, what’s the connection?”

“I don’t know.” Dean shrugged, dropping the posters. “Why don’t you figure that out?” His eyes drifted over Alex’s head, coming to rest on something behind her. “I’m gonna hit the poop deck.” He stood up, and Alex glanced behind her to see that the restrooms were marked with a large sign that did in fact read ‘Poop Deck.’ She rolled her eyes, turning back to her empty plate.

Sam sighed and took the pictures from where Dean had dropped them.

“Agent Roark?” A woman approached, staring at Sam. Recognition flashed in her gaze, and she smiled. “It’s so good to you again!”

Sam stared up at her for a few seconds. He finally stuttered out a confused “It is.”

“Oh, you remember my husband.” The woman motioned to the man standing behind her.

“Right,” Sam lied.

“Don.”

“Of course, right. Um, hi.” He quickly glanced over at Alex, who was just staring up at the two people.

“So you’re back cause it started again, right? The disappearances?”

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, right. Um . . . so if either of you two hear anything, please let me know.”

The woman nodded, and her eyes drifted over to Alex. “Where’s your partner?” she asked. “The big bald guy. Agent Wynand, right?”

“Agent Wynand,” Sam repeated. “Of course. Uh . . .”

“Sex rehab.” Dean’s voice made Alex jump, and she pulled her wings in tight with a curse under her breath. “Yeah, you’ve heard of plushies, right?”

The woman seemed fairly disconcerted, and Sam cleared his throat. “This, uh, this is my new partner.”

“Hi. Pleasure.” Dean reached out to shake the woman’s hand. He shook the husband’s hand with another quick greeting, and something in his voice made Alex worried that something was wrong. “Uh, so, Agent, we should, uh —”

“Yeah.” Sam adamantly agreed. “Yeah, of course.”

“Of course,” the woman agreed. “Uh, nice chatting with you, Agent Roark.”

“You too.”

The couple left, but Alex didn’t miss the way the wife’s hand brushed against’s Sam’s shoulder, or the look she gave him when Sam turned at the touch.

Apparently Dean didn’t miss it either. “What was that? She just _cougar_ -eyed you.”

“I think Samuel and I worked a case in this town,” Sam finally got out.

“You think?” Dean produced a picture from his jacket, and Alex craned her neck to see it. In the foreground was a man Alex didn’t recognize, but in the background sat a very familiar man. Long hair, angular face. Dark, soulless eyes.

“We should probably go.”

“Damn straight.” Dean tossed the picture down on the table and stood. “Come on.”

 

 **T** hey drove back to the abandoned house. Dean immediately threw whatever clothes he had left lying in the couch. “Hey, come on. Hop to it.” He peered around the corner at his brother, who was just sitting on the bed, Alex beside him.

“We can’t go, Dean.”

“Uh, yeah, we can.” Dean rolled up a pair of jeans and threw them in his bag.

“No, listen.” Sam motioned to his laptop. “Five guys went missing a year ago. They never found bodies. I mean, that’s got to be the job me and Samuel worked, right?”

“Great. What differences does it make?”

Sam repeated himself. “A year ago, five guys go missing — and now suddenly all these women go missing. Something’s here. So either we didn’t stop it, or we thought we did.”

Dean threw down his jacket and walked over to him. “Okay, but why the gender bend?” he asked, hands out to emphasis his point. “First it’s dudes, not it’s chicks? Why the different MO?”

“I don’t know. Who knows? The point is, something’s still here.”

“Great. We can call Bobby. He can deal with it.”

“Why? We can deal with it.”

“Are you serious? Sam, there’s a reason that hunter’s don’t hit the same town over again.” Dean circled around so he was standing in front of them. Cause we have a habit of leaving messes behind.”

Sam nodded, not denying it. “Right. I agree.”

“One of dad’s rules — never use the same crapper twice.”

Alex barely held back a snort of laughter, and Sam rolled his eyes. “Everybody uses the same crapper twice.”

“Not us.” Dean watched Sam’s face before adding, “You know what I mean.”

“Okay, look — this creature is still walking around because of me, right? I mean, I let it go. Dad also said, ‘Finish what you start.’ ” Dean let out a smile of complete disbelief, shaking his head, and Sam added. “Okay? I get it.” Sam closed his laptop.

“Do you?”

“Yeah. You’re afraid I’ll stroll down memory lane and I’ll kick the wall so hard, hell comes flooding through, right? And then all of a sudden, I’m some drooling mess on the floor.”

Dean’s countenance immediately darkened. “It’s not a joke.”

“Okay. I know. But listen — what’s happening here right now — it’s because I messed up somehow, in some big way. So every person who gets taken, every person who dies — that’s on me. I have to stop it. And you’d do the same.”

A long pause. Alex saw the decision battle in his eyes, and she gave a small nod. Dean gave in. “Alright. Me and Alex’ll talk to the brunettes. You see what you get from the cops.”

Sam nodded curtly, stowing his laptop away in his bag. “Thank you.”

Dean just shook his head and walked away. Alex stood and followed. “He’s got a point.”

“Of course he’s got a point.” Dean angrily pawed through his bag, pulling out his dark slacks. “And if it wasn’t such a damn good one, I’d haul his ass out of here so fast —” He cut himself off, searching for a shirt.

Alex nodded. “I’ll get ready.”

 

 **H** alf an hour later she was trailing after Dean up to a door. She reached into her back pocket to fetch her ID, and transferred it to her left pocket as the hunter rang the doorbell. It took a few seconds, but a young woman answered. Alex ran a quick eye over her. Medium-length blonde hair, green eyes, lilac cardigan. “Can I help you?”

“Agents Young and Collins.” Dean flashed his badge, and Alex did the same, standing up straighter to look older.

The woman didn’t seem to notice. “Samantha Mutcher. W—Can I help you?”

“Uh, yes. We’re looking into the disappearance of Nichole Handler? Do you know her?”

“Yeah. She’s my roommate.” Samantha stepped back. “Uh, uh, please. Come in.”

“Thank you.” Dean and Alex followed Samantha into the living room. Dean walked over to the bookshelf, staring at a framed picture. Alex walked over to the kitchen, pulling open the fridge to peer inside. She heard Samantha make a small noise of confusion.

Dean cleared his throat. “So, you and Nichole were roommates for a long time?”

“Since college, but we’ve been best friends ever since.”

Alex closed the fridge, turning just in time to see Dean nod. “Hmm.”

“This whole thing’s really surreal. Are you any closer to finding her, or . . ?”

“We’re doing everything we can,” Alex promised, leaning against the island.

“Now,” Dean continued, “you were with Nichole the night she went missing. Did she say anything?” He walked over to stand beside Alex, gaze gliding across the small apartment.

“Nothing. It’s like I told the cops — I wish there were something.”

Suddenly Dean reached in front of Alex, pulling a small business card from a bowl. He held it up, and Alex frowned when she read what was on it. Dean turned it to show Samantha. “Where’d you get this?”

Recognition flashed in the roommate’s eyes. “Oh, Nichole got that from that FBI guy.”

Dean looked down at Alex, eyes dark, before turning back to Samantha. “Agent Roark? About — about yea high?” He raised one hand, estimating Sam’s height.

“Yeah, that was him. One of the men that disappeared last year lived in our building.”

“Right.” Dean tossed the card back into the bowl.

“So Agent Roark was asking us all questions about it, I guess.”

“You guess?” Dean repeated. “So he, he came by here?”

“Oh he came by a few times.”

“Did he? To uh, to speak to Nichole.”

“Right.”

“And how would you . . . uh, characterize their relationship?”

“Relationship? No, no, they weren’t having a —”

“Just the — the tone or the nature of their conversations.”

“Well . . . loud. And . . . athletic.”

Alex looked up at Dean, an eyebrow cocked. “I think that’s all for now,” she said, waiting for Dean to give him approval.

He nodded. “Thanks for your time.” Dean led the way back out of the car.

Alex slid into the front seat, glancing over at Dean. “Plot twist,” she teased as the engine purred to life.

Dean was obviously not amused. “That’s it,” he swore. “We are getting Sam, and we’re blowing town.” He turned the car onto the freeway. “There’s a reason we don’t hit the same town twice, and definitely not working the same damn case.”

“You think something’s wrong?”

“He worked FBI, right?” Dean tossed her his phone. “That means the police know who he is.”

“So?”

“So I sent him down to the police station.” Dean spared her a glance. “The dude was unstable. Who knows what he did without his soul.”

“You think he . . ?”

“Yeah, probably. Call him.”

Alex did so. It rang, and it rang, but Sam didn’t answer. “Nope.”

“Give it here.” Dean took his phone back, grumbling under his breath. He dialed Sam’s number. From the way Dean’s fingers tightened on the steering wheel, Alex knew he hadn’t answered. “Sam,” he finally said. “Where are you? Call me.” He hung up and tossed his phone back at Alex, who fumbled, but caught it.

“He’s probably fine,” Alex promised. “He’s a big boy. Literally.”

“Yeah, I know.” Dean parked the Impala across the street from their current house. He threw the car into park and got out. “You’re probably right.”

 

 **S** am didn’t come back. Both Dean and Alex called him, but he never answered. At one point, Dean left the room, phone in hand. The next minute, he was storming back into the living room. Alex looked up, surprised. “Uh . . . everything okay?”

“Sam’s in jail.”

“What?” Alex sat up, wings curling forward in concern and curiosity. “How?”

“Don’t know.” Dean dropped down on the couch. “I’ve got half a mind to let him sit there for the night.”

“Dean . . .”

“We can’t get him, Alex.” Dean glared over at her. “He was posing as FBI. Anyone who goes in there is gonna be checked out. Extensively.”

“So if we go after him, we go to jail too.”

“Yeah.” Dean put his head in his hands, leaning forward on his elbows. “Shit.”

Ales walked over to the couch and sat down next to her friend. “We’ll think of something,” she promised, leaning against his shoulder. “We always do.”

 

 **T** hey didn’t think of anything, but as it turned out, they didn’t need to. Late that night, the handle on front door turned. It refused to open, thanks to the lock, but Dean jumped to his feet, hands immediately finding his gun. He approached the door, motioning for Alex to open it. She nodded in understanding. She stepped forward and wrapped her fingers around the doorknob then flung it open.

Sam stood there. He pushed his way in, pulling his jacket even closer even though the room was warm. “Sam?” Alex stared up at him, confusion flashing in her eyes. “What?”

“Hey.” Sam looked over his shoulder at Dean.

“How’d you get away from the cops?”

“This, uh, this woman.” Sam followed his brother into the living room. “She — her name’s Brenna. I think. Yeah. She, uh, knew me — soulless me. Her husband was one of the ones to go missing. She wants me to figure out what’s going on.”

“So she just . . . let you go?” Dean tossed his gun onto the rickety table.

“Pretty much. She had me tie her up so it looked like an escape.” Sam fell onto the couch. “I think she knows about the last time I was in town.” He looked up at Dean. “We should talk to her.”

“Yeah, no. You’re not going anywhere. If you still insist on working this case, you’re gonna stay right here. You can’t go out there. Not with the cops on your ass.”

Sam looked like he was going to protest, but eventually he dropped his gaze. “Yeah,” he agreed. “Got it.”

 

 **D** ean left the next morning to go talk with the family of the third missing woman. Alex stayed with Sam, promising Dean that between her and Sam, they could keep any cops that came by far away. Dean promised to bring back food, and Alex spent a good deal of her time pacing around the house, exploring every nook and cranny. At one point she sat down in the kitchen, staring out the frost-bitten window. “Cas?” she asked quietly, grace pulsing out to check that Sam was still in the bedroom. “Hey, man. Hope the war’s going okay.”

A whisper reached her ears, and she closed her eyes, trying to focus on the voice. “Cas?” she repeated. “I can’t hear you. Just . . . I talked with Cassiel. He’s a good angel; he was helpful. So, listen . . . He told me about how you think I’m rejecting you with the whole . . . not consummating thing.” The whisper returned, and Alex focused, wanting to hear that voice so badly it ached. “Cas. I can’t hear you. Are you trying to speak to me? I can’t understand you, man. Here’s the thing; I’m not rejecting you, okay? There isn’t, like, anybody else. I’m just not ready for that. Not with you, not with anybody.”

She paused, waiting for an answer, but there was nothing. She opened her mouth to expand on her point, but footsteps had her closing it again. She turned to see Sam walk into the room, and she nodded in greeting.

Sam grunted, “Hey,” before digging through the cooler for a beer. “Thought I heard your voice. Were you talking to someone?”

“Sort of. It was more of a . . . one sided conversation.”

Sam nodded in understanding before exiting the room, and Alex’s head fell back against the cupboards. The police scanner hummed in the background, the occasional dispatch coming through.

 

 **T** he hum of a car engine approached. Curious, Alex peered out the window, but from her vantage point saw nothing. “There’s someone outside,” she called to Sam. A grunt told that he already knew that. She watched as he pulled out his gun and circled around to the door, back pressed against the wall, muscles tensed. Alex watched as the door handle turned, then opened. Dean stepped through. Alex gave him a little wave of greeting.

Sam had stepped out from behind the door, cocking his gun and pointing at the intruder. Dean spun around to see the gun. “Hey, Sam. So, how does it feel to be a fugitive again?” He smirked. “Hate to say I told you so.” He walked into the kitchen.

“You love to say ‘I told you so,’ ” Sam grumbled, following.

“Fugitive again?” Alex jumped off the counter, wings out to balance herself. “Oh, yeah, right. Last time it was, uh, serial killer shifters or something, right?”

“Uh . . . no.” Dean glanced at her, confusion darkening his face. “Not really.”

“There was the time the shifter posed as you,” Sam reminded him.

“And after that was the, uh, bank robbery,” Dean agreed. He turned back to Alex. “I don’t remember any shifter serial killers.”

“Huh.” Alex frowned, scratching her temple. “Weird. Must have been a dream.”

“Yeah.” Sam and Dean exchanged looks, and Alex let out a breath, turning away. Obviously that hadn’t quite happened yet.

Thankfully, neither Sam not Dean pressed her. Dean turned back to his brother. “So, actually, you were right. I do love to say ‘I told you so.’ I found out something on, uh, ‘crazy-eyes McGee.’ ” He held out the police photo to his brother. “Turns out you two knew each other.”

Sam’s eye furrowed in confusion as he took the photo. “What?”

“Biblically. I just spoke to her roommate.”

“Her too?” Alex walked over to them, a grin on her face. “Dude, you seriously got around.”

Dean nodded in agreement, voice growing warm with amusement. “Soulless or not, even I’m impressed.”

Sam opened his mouth to snap, but was interrupted by the garbled words over the police scanner. A second later, there was a distinct voice. “Eight Sierra Papa. Got a 10-57, 1100 blocks over on Hope Street. Over.”

“Missing persons,” Sam interpreted. “Another one.”

“Okay, alright. I’ll go, you stay.”

“Yeah. Fine.”

“Sam?”

“Yeah?”

“Stay here.”

“Fine!” Sam threw his hands up in the air. “Go!”

Dean hurried into the bathroom to change into is suit and tie. When he came back out he motioned for Alex to follow. “Stay here,” he repeated one more time before closing the door. They heard Sam yell after them as they got into Impala. “He’s not going to stay,” Dean grumbled, starting the car.

Alex pulled her jacket tightly around her, already cold. “He’s not an idiot,” she defended.

“No, but he’s too emotional.” Dean turned the car down the street. “Hey. Find where 1100 Hope Street is.”

“Yessir.” Alex threw him a mock salute as she pulled out her phone. A few seconds later she cleared her throat. “Uh, you’re gonna want to turn on Rueben Street. About four miles up the road.”

Dean grunted in thanks. However, instead he turned into the nearest Starbucks.

Alex blinked on confusion. “Uh . . . Dean?”

“The place is crawling with cops. It’s not safe going in, not with what happened to Sam.” He led the way into the coffee shop.

“We could say we’re here cause we’re tracking Sam,” she suggested. “Say he’s been taking people over the country —”

“It’s not worth the risk. Let’s have a drink and snack, and then we’ll go.” Deeming the conversation over, Dean pointed up to the menu. “What do you want?”

 

 **I** t was almost an hour later before they reached 1100 Hope Street. They pulled in just as the last cop car drove away, and Dean paused for a few seconds before turning to Alex. “Here’s the plan. I’m gonna go in and talk to her. You’re gonna scout the house and see if you can sense something.”

“Sense something?”

“Yeah. With your angel senses, you know?”

Alex rolled her eyes. “I’ll see what I can do. I’m not sure how well I can ‘sense’ things that aren’t there anymore.”

Dean threw open the door and headed up towards the house. Alex reluctantly followed, slipping around the side as Dean rung the doorbell. She trudged through the snow, wings wrapped tightly around her. Footprints covered the yard, evidence of the cops who had been here not long before. She peered in through the windows to see Dean talking with a man before quickly ducking out of sight. She reached the backdoor and pushed her grace out, but felt nothing. She gently touched the lock, and the door swung open, revealing a long hallway and several doors. Alex slipped inside and closed the door behind her. At the end of the hallway stood Dean. He glanced at her, then did a double take. He shifted his position slightly, making sure the man wouldn’t see her. Alex opened one door; closet. She turned to the next, the nodded. Staircase. Basement, not doubt. She slipped down the wooden stairs, silent as possible until she reached the bottom. The floor was concrete, and the walls were little more than wooden studs. It was dark, but Alex could see perfectly fine. She sniffed the air, pushing her grace out to see if she could find anything.

She pulled back with a shudder. There was a taint in the air, something dark and cold. Alex reluctantly followed the feel to under the stairs. Nothing was there. She did a quick scan of the basement one more time, but there was nothing. Deciding she was overstaying her visit, Alex hurried back upstairs. She slipped back outside wings flaring out wide, glad to be back in an open space.

She circled back around to the front just as Dean stepped back out onto the porch. “Listen, thanks for your time,” he told the husband. “We’re on it.”

“Yeah, thanks.” The man closed the door and Dean hurried down the sidewalk. Alex caught up to him. “Well? He looks familiar.”  
 “Remember the chick who was flirting with Sam at the restaurant?”

“Oh. She’s gone, huh?”

“Yeah.” Dean circled around to the driver’s side door and got in.

Alex followed his lead. “So, that means every single one of our missing persons knew Sam.”

“Yeah, and every single one fucked him.” Dean pulled out his phone and dialed a number. It rang, and rang, and Dean frowned. “Sam, answer the phone, dammit. We found the connection between the missing chicks. They all banged the same dude. You. It’s you, Sam. The text, the victims — it’s a trap for you. Call me back.” He hung up with a frustrated noise and started the car.

“Now where?”

“Well, chance are Sam’s not at the house,” Dean grunted. “So we find him.”

“Find him? How?”

“Well, Sam said that woman, uh, Brenna, broke him out, right? She knows something.”

“So we find her, chances are we find Sam.” Alex nodded in agreement. “Great. One problem. How do you we find Brenna?”

 

 **A** lex groaned, throwing her head back against the wall. “This is stupid,” she grumbled. “I’ve been on hold for like, ten fucking minutes. How hard is it to hand the phone to a sheriff?”

Dean snorted in amusement. “He’s probably out.”

“I’m just looking to talk to one cop. One person who can give me a freaking clue about who this Brenna woman is.” Alex glanced over at Dean, who was still on his laptop. “What about you? Find anything?”

“Not yet. There are approximately one hundred ‘Brennas’ in this town. Give me a while to sort through ‘em all.”

“She’s probably connected to the disappearances last year —” There was a noise on the other side of the phone line, and Alex sat up straight. “Hello?”

“Hi. This is Sheriff Atkins.”

“Atkins. Makayla Collins, FBI. I’m looking into the disappearance in your town. If our records serves us right, there were similar disappearances at this time last year, correct?”

It was obvious the sheriff was not altogether pleased to speak with her. “Yeah,” he admitted guardedly, “That’s correct. Except last year all victims were male.”

Alex waved him off. “Unimportant details. MO’s change, as you should know. Now. I’m going to ask you a very important question.”

“Can I have your badge number?”

Alex frowned, but stood up and walked over to where her badge lay on the table. “Sure thing.” She cleared her throat. “One. One. Zero. Nine. Five.” She pulled out one of her cards. “I suppose you’ll be wanting my superior’s number along with that.”

“Of course.”

“Okay.” With a roll of her eyes, Alex rattled off the number that led directly to Bobby’s FBI phone. “Tom Willis. If he doesn’t answer, wait half an hour. He usually goes on break around this time.”

Sheriff Atkins grunted and hung up, and Alex tossed her phone onto the table. “Fucking cops,” she huffed. “Why do they always have to be so cautious?”

“That’s their job.”

“Yeah, but I hate when it interferes with _my_ job.” The young angel sighed, sitting down beside the Winchester. “Can you maybe get the names of the vics online.”

“Not yet. Every article so far says their names haven’t been released.”

“Not released? It’s been over a year.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Do you want to comb through a year’s worth of newspaper?” Dean glanced at her, a frown on his face. “It’s gonna take some time.”

 _Time we might not have_. The unspoken message was communicated loud and clear, and Alex nodded. She picked up her cellphone when it rang, hurriedly answering it. “Yes?”

“Alright. Listen, Agent. We know who the perp was. The idiot walked right back into town yesterday.”

“Oh. And?”

“And why should the feds give a damn?”

Alex frowned at his tone. “Sir, we ‘give a damn’ because this is a federal matter. This man has been spotted all along the East Coast, always leaving behind a trail of missing persons, five each. The case has crossed state borders, which makes it our damn business, _do you understand_?”

Silence. Then a grumpy, “Yes.”

“Now. Do you have this man in custody?” Alex was met with silence, and her voice grew sharp. “Well?”

“No, ma’am. He . . . escaped last night.”

“Escaped?” Alex let out a sharp breath through her nose. “You mean to tell me he got away? What kind of a jail do you run?” Before he could answer she continued. “Did anyone see him escape?”

“Yes. The wife of our last sheriff was ambushed by her. We found her tied up in the cell.”

“Name?”

“Why?”

Alex’s wings flared out, but her voice remained icy calm. “The name, Sheriff.”

“Brenna Dobbs.”

“Brenna Dobbs,” Alex repeated, glancing at Dean. “Thank you.” She snapped her phone shut, rolling her eyes.

Dean grinned. “Love it when you get all controlling like that,” he teased. “It’s sexy.”

Alex rolled her eyes again, blushing. She walked past him towards the living room. “You’re adorable,” she laughed, reaching out to muss his hair on the way by. “Figure out who Brenna Dobbs is,” she called over her shoulder.

“Yes ma’am.”

 

 **D** ean walked into the room five minutes later. “Alright. Come on.”

Alex jumped to her feet. “You found her?”

“Yeah. Come on.” Dean grabbed his suit jacket — Alex suddenly noticed that he hadn’t changed out of his fed suit, not that they really had time.

Alex followed him out to the car, suppressing a shiver. The winter sky was growing dark, and the icy air was biting at her skin. She slid into the cold Impala next to Dean, sliding a little closer to him than was typical. The hunter didn’t protest, and as soon as the car was on turned the heater on full blast. Cold air rushed upon her, and Alex shivered, but as they started to drive, it grew comfortably warm.

They reached their destination within ten minutes. Dean parked the car across the street from a suburban house, turning the engine off. He and Alex got out, and Dean led the way across the street and up the sidewalk. Sam stood on the porch, staring at something off to their left. He seemed completely entranced by it, and Alex felt her muscles tense as she wondered what he saw. Dean walked straight to his brother, still unnoticed. He reached out and put a hand on his shoulder.

Sam immediately came to life, gun drawn. Dean jumped back, surprised as as Sam kept it pointed at Dean for only a second before he dropped his gun with an angry huff. “I almost shot you,” he hissed. “Again. What the hell?”

“I figured you’d come here and talk to her.” Dean shared in his brother’s anger. “I told you to stay home, man. Did you get my message?”

Alex felt something move, and she pulsed her grace out. A second later she spun around, angel blade in hand as she felt a taint. She peered into the darkness, but saw nothing. “We should go,” she called over her shoulder. “Something’s here.”

Footsteps behind her told her the Winchesters agreed. Alex followed them back into the Impala, and they drove away.

 

 **D** ean stomped into the house, frustration still evident on his face. Sam and Alex followed, the younger Winchester carrying a dark brown box labelled _Evidence_. He set it down on the coffee table in front of the couch and pulled out the first folder he grabbed.

Dean walked back into the room, now changed out of his fed suit. Alex ran an eye over him. He was now wearing his typical jeans and boots and a grey t-shirt, over which he had thrown Sam’s green plaid shirt, which was only a little too big. The Winchester stopping only to turn on the light sitting by the fireplace before returning to pacing in front of them. “So,” he began, “we know that this is a monster with opposable thumbs and unlimited text messaging, and we know that it wants to _kill you_ specifically. Does that about cover it?”

Sam didn’t look up from the folder he was studying. “It’s an arachne,” he mumbled. He glanced up quickly before looking back down again.

Dean stopped pacing. “A what?”

Sam paused, focusing his gaze on the far wall. “I remembered.”

“You remembered?” Anger filled the hunter’s voice. “Y — I’m sorry. What else have you remembered?”

“Don’t worry, alright? I — It’s got nothing to do with hell.”

“Uh-huh. Not yet, anyways.”

“What can I do, Dean? The stuff is just starting to come back, alright? Maybe it’s natural.”

“We’re leaving.”

“No, we can’t.”

“We are _not_ the only hunters on the planet, okay? We can call Bobby. He and Rufus can come wrap this up!”

“How? Like you said, it could be anybody, and we got jack shit for leads.”

“We know that it hates you,” Alex offered.

“I know who did this,” Sam insisted. “I just — I can’t remember.” He reached into the evidence box to grab another folder.

Dean stepped forward, frustratedly yanking the folder out of his hands. He sat down in the chair beside his brother. “I don’t think you get the risk here, Sam.” He threw the folder back down on the table.

“Yes, I do.”

“Really? You get that every time you scratch that wall you are playing Russian Roulette?”

“Dean, I get you’re worried, okay? And I know what you think’s gonna happen. But you know what? It will or it won’t.”

“Sam —”

“Look,” Sam interrupted, and Dean dropped his head, frustratedly rubbing his hands together. “I’m starting to think that — that I might have done some bad stuff here, Dean. And so I don’t care if it’s dangerous. I have to set things right, cause I have a fucking soul now and it won’t let me just walk away!” He paused to let that sink in, letting out a loud breath. “I’m staying here,” he finally said, voice quiet. “And . . . I need you to back me up.”

Dean looked up at his brother, and the room was completely silent for several long seconds. Then Dean let out a breath, dropping his shoulders. “Alright,” he finally said. “Why not. Let’s _Memento_ this thing, shall we?”

Alex felt her muscles relax, glad that the intense conversation was over with. She stood up, nodding. She watched as Sam carried the evidence folder over to the round table on the far side of the room. She immediately followed. “I’ll start sorting,” she called, grabbing the case folders. She vaguely heard Sam grunted in agreement as she began to lay out the different pictures of the victims. She heard Dean return into the house — he must have gone out and some point — and then Sam was beside her, unfolding a large map of the area. “Where’d you get that?” she asked, curious.

Sam shrugged. “Was in the box. Probably from something me and Samuel did.” He held out one corner of the map to his brother, who took it, and together they hung it on the far wall.

“Where do you want to start?” she called.

Sam returned. “Uh, let’s start with the guys.”

“Sounds good.” Alex picked up two. “Roy Dobbs. Henry Unger.” She handed a picture to each of the boys. They took it and walked back over to the map. Alex picked up the photo of Walter Henson and followed.

 

 **O** ver the next hour they slowly put together their relationship chart. Sam stood in the midst of the pictures and the strings, eyes tracing over every detail. Alex stood by his side, reading over the women’s names. Claudia Brown. Catherine Ward. Nichole Handler. Debbie Harris. Nothing in common. Nothing except Sam. At that thought she glanced at the hunter out of the corner of her eye. He was staring at the map, eyes wide. “Sam?” she gently prodded him out of his thoughts.

He jerked back into reality. “Fuck.”

“Language,” Alex retorted kindly, smacking him in the head with a wing. “What’s wrong? You zoned out.”

“I know what happened.”

“And . . ?” Alex frowned. “You don’t look too happy about it.”

“What did you remember?” Dean chimed in, frustration in his voice.

“It’s an arachne,” Sam reiterated. “A woman who took all the guys.”

“But now she taking all the chicks?” Alex frowned. “Sounds kinda strange.”

“No, no.” Sam shook his head, wandering back over towards the the table. “We killed her. Cut off her head. Then I killed them.” He turned and looked up at his brother with wide eyes. “I shot all of them. Roy . . . he begged for his life and I shot him.” Hurt flashed in the hunter’s gaze, and he stared down at the table.

Dean frowned. “It’s not your fault,” he promised, glancing up at Alex for support.

She nodded. “Soulless you was a dick. But soulless you wasn’t you you.”

Sam picked up his phone and quickly dialed a number Alex tipped her head in confusion, but Dean seemed to know exactly what Sam was doing. He shoved his hands in his pockets. “What are you going to tell Brenna?” he asked, tone casual, but Alex could feel the concern laced deep beneath.

“Relax, Dean.” Sam cleared his throat before turning his attention to the phone. “Hey, Brenna, it — it’s Sam. Just checking in.” He paused, and Alex could make out the distinct voice of a female even from where she was standing. “Yeah, of course I can swing by.” Alex could hear the frown in Sam’s voice, and she moved closer, worried. “Okay, yeah. Bye.” Sam hung up.

“What was that about?”

“She wants to me swing by.”

“For?”

“She said it’s no big deal.” A loaded pause before, “But I can tell she’s in big trouble.” Dean hesitated, glancing back at the large map, and Sam’s frown deepened. “Dean!”

“This thing is after you, Sam,” Dean countered. “This whole thing reeks of a trap.”

“Yeah, it probably is,” Sam agreed. “So?”

“So? You —”

“We should go,” Alex interrupted. “Come on, Dean. We know how to kill one. And I’m an angel. I stab it, it dies.” Seeing the apprehension that still danced in the hunter’s eyes she added, “We can take this. Between the three of us.”

Dean reluctantly nodded. “Okay.” He agreed. He brushed past Sam and grabbed his jacket off of the couch. “Let’s go.”

 

 **B** y the time they reached Brenna’s house snow was falling and wind had picked up, swirling the snowflakes through the air. Alex tightened her grip on her angel blade, the metal somehow warm, even in the cold air. Dean and Sam got out of the car and drew their machetes.

Alex followed, pushing her grace out. “It was in the house,” she told them. “Then it either came or went this way.” She pointed off down the street. “You two check out the house. I’ll follow the trail this way. See if it dies down or not.”

When Dean nodded, Alex took off down the sidewalk, turning her jacket up against the wind. “Alex!” Dean’s voice had her turning. “Don’t go too far.”

Alex smiled. “If you need help, shoot me a prayer,” she teased, raising her voice over the screeching wind. “I am an angel, after all.”

“You sure that’ll work?”

Alex just shrugged before spinning around and walking off.

She canvased the neighborhood for at least ten minutes, following the disgusting taint in the air. As one trail died down, she would pick another one up. “This guy went everywhere,” she grumbled, awkwardly jumping a chainlink fence. “Fucking hell it’s cold.”

 _Alex? So, breaker, breaker._ Dean’s voice came from behind her, and Alex spun around. Nothing. _Get your ass over here. Now._

Alex blinked, hesitating for only a second before running back into the street.

_Can you hear me? This thing’s stronger than we thought. Hurry up._

“I can hear you,” Alex muttered under her breath, taking off down the street. Her foot hit a patch of ice and she slipped before ungracefully regaining her balance. “I heard you the first time.”

She slid to a stop beside the Impala, pushing her grace out. There. She crept around the side of the house to see a large shed. The lights were on, and there were people inside. Three humans. One . . . something. Alex twirled her weapon in her hand before creeping closer, reaching for the handle. She could hear a voice, one she didn’t recognize, deep and cold. On a second thought she straightened up, peering through the window.

A large black man had his back to her. He seemed . . . off. In front of him sat the two Winchesters, both tied up in what looked like cobwebs. The angel bit her lip, slightly amused. Arachne. It was literally a human-spider. That was kinda cool.

Dean saw her. He blinked, and his voice rang in Alex’s head. _About time._

Alex signed a ‘I’ with her right hand, bringing it up so her thumb rested against her forehead. _Idiot_ , she signed. Dean just rolled his eyes.

 

_**“N** o, don’t do that.” A wing came down over her head, and Alex flinched, knocking away Balthazar’s wing. “Don’t be stupid.” _

_“Stop hitting me.” Alex flared her wings out, staring up at the angel. “And what the hell do you have a labyrinth in your basement for?”_

_“Because I could.” Balthazar snapped his fingers, and the minotaur towering over her disappeared._

_Alex huffed, rubbing her shoulder where she had fallen. The angel had gotten it into his head that it was necessary to train her because apparently she ‘sucked at being an angel.’ “Well, what the hell was I suppose to do?” she countered. “I had to get past it somehow.”_

_“You’re not strong,” the angel said bluntly. “Chances are you’ll never be as strong as most male angels.” His wings flicked out. “I’m sure you have other strengths. Use them.”_

_“Like what?”_

_“Are you fast? Outrun it. Clever? Outsmart it. Use simple tricks. Most creatures aren’t as smart as you would think.”_

 

 **A** lex ducked back down below the window, planning what she would do. Arachne. She knew nothing about them. But first thing was first. Get past the creature and into the shed with the Winchesters. She knocked on the shed door. Two sound thuds that echoed through the quiet night.

The voice ceased talking. Footsteps approached, and Alex slipped around the side of the shed. The door opened, and light flooded through. The angel, not sure what else to do, picked up a handful of packed snow and tossed it off to her left. It hit the far bushes with a rustle. The Arachne moved off toward it, a litany of curses falling under its breath, and Alex took the opportunity to slip into the shed, closing the door quietly behind her.

“The hell took you so long?” Dean snapped as Alex hurried over to him.

“Shut up. I was like, two blocks away.”

“Who are you?” The voice was back.

Alex spun around, standing beside Dean, weapon in hand. The man approached. Alex immediately recognized him. “Dobbs.” She glanced down at Sam. “I thought he was one of the victims.”

“The arachne wasn’t feeding. She was breeding.”

“Oh.” Alex blinked in realization. “Great.” She shifted her weight as the creature approached. “Stay back,” she warned.

“Or what?”

“Or I’ll have to kill you.”

“You? A little human?” Amusement flashed in the creature’s eyes, and Alex realized with a start that it had two pupils in each eye.

The arachne suddenly lunged forward, and Alex barely had enough time to bring her weapon up, shoving the blade through its chest. The creature gasped, eyes going wide. “Little yes,” Alex admitted quietly. “Human no.” She pulled her blade back out, and the arachne fell dead at her feet.

It didn’t move from where it lay, and Alex turned to Sam and Dean. She sliced through the thick web between them, and something clattered to the ground. The angel looked over to see a large shard of glass laying behind Dean. “Good try,” she teasingly praised him as Sam untangled himself and got to his feet. She pulled the rest of the web off of Dean before taking his hands. “Doesn’t look too bad,” she said as she studied the cuts on his hands from the glass. She curled her fingers over the wound, focusing on the grace. “Maybe I can help.”

When she pulled away, her hands were bloody, but the large cuts on Dean’s palms seemed to be gone.

“Thanks.” Dean got to his feet, brushing the blood off on his jeans before walking past a a woman who stood beside Sam.

Alex turned in confusion. She hadn’t seen her there. She watched as she walked over to her husband, hands going up to cover her mouth.

Sam approached, placing a large hand on the woman’s shoulder. “We’ll take care of him,” he promised. He gently guided her out of the shed.

As soon as they left Dean turned to her. “Come on.” He picked up a large tarp that lay on the ground and rolled it out beside the body.

Alex wordlessly leaned down and picked up the monster’s feet, dragging it onto the tarp. She let out a sharp pant of exhaustion, glancing up at Dean in frustration as Dobb’s head dropped beside the body. “Thanks for the help.”

“You kill it, you haul it.” Dean started rolling the tarp up around the body.

“I’m not carrying it out to the car.” Alex helped him cover the body before crossing her arms. “Contrary to popular belief, I’m not Samson.”

“You’re more like a Delilah,” Dean quipped back. When Alex huffed in surprise, he added defensively, “What? I _have_ read the Bible, thank you very much.”

“Sparknotes doesn’t count.” The two hunters picked up the tarp, and Alex carefully followed Dean out of the shed.

Sam joined them as they placed the body in the trunk, face downcast. They silently got into the car and drove away.

 

 **T** hey drove down into the woods to bury the body before returning to the abandoned house in the early hours of dawn. Alex collapsed on the couch, burying her face in the pile of Dean’s clothes, trying to block out the faint grey light from the dawn. She could hear the Winchesters packing, but she fruitlessly tried to find sleep.

“You okay?” she heard Dean ask.

“We shouldn’t have come back here,” Sam said, voice rough with pain. Alex rolled onto her left side, resting her forehead against the back of the couch. It wasn’t any better, so she rolled back onto her stomach. At least he was talking — Sam Winchester hadn’t said a single word since they had left Brenna’s house.

“Well, we did uh, kill . . . spiderman,” Dean offered.

“So you’re suggesting what I did back there was a good thing?”

“I’m just saying —”

“What?”

There was a long pause. “Sam, y-you got to understand that all that crap last year — all of it — it wasn’t you.”

“Let’s be crystal clear, okay? It _was_ me.”

Another long pause, and Alex heard Dean move over towards her. “Well, can I get you anything?” The couch dipped as Dean sat down on her legs, and Alex fruitlessly tried to kick him off.

“What are you now, my waitress?”

Dean pulled a jacket out from under her face. “I’m just trying to make you feel better. Don’t be a bitch.”

Sam let out a soft breath. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he finally said.

“Yeah, you look fine,” Dean countered, stuffing his clothes in his bag. “All I’m saying is that everything’s gonna be okay.”

“I don’t know Dean. If I did this here, who knows how many other —” Sam cut off, and Alex heard a loud thud as a body hit the ground. The minute Dean got off of her she jumped to her feet. “Sam?” Dean rushed over to his brother who was writhing on the ground.

“Sam!” Alex sprinted across the room, falling to her knees in front of the hunter. “Sam!” The Winchester stopped moving, and in a desperate attempt to see what was wrong, Alex reached out, placing to fingers on his head, focusing on her grace.

Pain. That was the first thing she felt. A burning pain that clawed into her skin. She felt her flesh burn and melt under the searing heat. She opened her eyes to see where she was. Sam Winchester stood in front of her, flames dancing across his skin. His eyes were wide in terror, face contorted in pain. Fire was everywhere. Alex spun around, wings curled in tight to try and protect her when she froze. A pair of ice blue eyes stared at her, blinking in confusion. “Alex?”


	11. Mannequin 3: The Reckoning

**“A** lex!” Dean roughly shook her, and the angel fell backwards, breaking the connection. She stared down at Sam, whose eyes had fallen shut. “What the hell?” Dean snapped, fear fueling his anger.

Alex stared down at Sam. That wasn't right. If that was a memory, the devil shouldn’t have said her name. No. She — she must have imagined it. “I’m okay,” she promised shakily. “He’s okay.”

“Like hell he is!”

Alex winced at how accurate his phrasing was. “T-The wall isn’t breaking,” she managed to get out. That much she could tell. “B-But it’s cracking. He’s remembering part of hell.”

Dean’s face grew pale, and he tightened his grip on his brother’s arm. “You were in his head?”

“Yea. I-I think I might have gotten behind the wall.” Alex looked down at the hunter, and she rubbed her face. “I only saw one . . . memory. Maybe one just slipped through.”

“Great.” Dean tightened his grip, fingernails angrily digging into Sam’s flesh. “If this is what one memory does, think of what will happen when it breaks.”

“It won’t be pretty.”

“Sammy!” Dean turned back to his brother, voice shaking with fright. “S-Sam? Oh, come on. Sammy!” He felt for his brother’s pulse then grabbed onto his jacket, shaking him even more forcefully. “Sammy! Come on, dammit!” His voice cracked, and he looked desperately over at Alex.

“Dean!” Alex reached out to stop him, keeping her voice soft. “You’re hurting him.”

Sam’s eyes suddenly flew open, and neither missed the fire that danced in his eyes before flickering out. He inhaled sharply, gaze focusing on the ceiling.

“Hey hey hey.” Dean shoved Alex out of the way, leaning over his brother. “You with me?”

Sam didn’t answer. He was breathing heavily, trying to fight to air. He eventually managed to nod.

“Come on.” Dean suddenly hauled Sam up off the ground. “Come on. Got to get you the hell out of here.”

“Dean!” Alex jumped to her feet, reaching out to steady the sagging hunter. “Let him rest.”

“Get the bags, Alex.” Dean half-led, half-dragged Sam out the front door. With a shaky sigh, Alex did as he asked.

 

 **T** hey drove for only an hour before Dean pulled the Impala off of the highway in search of coffee. They eventually found a large mobile coffee shop in the parking lot of a wooded park. Dean got out and promptly walked over, leaving Sam and Alex behind. Sam got out on shaky feet, and Alex followed, concerned for his safety. She watched as he leaned against the driver’s side of the trunk, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Maybe you should sit down,” Alex suggested worriedly, standing beside the hunter. “You’re not looking too good.”

“I’m fine.”

Dean hurried back over to them, carrying their food, drinks, and a local newspaper. “How you feeling?” he asked.

“Like I was hit by a planet.”

“Well, lucky for you I’m a doctor.” Dean held out the food, which Alex took. “I got joe, grub, and . . .” He held up a small bottle of pills, shaking them for emphasis.

“What are they?”

“Effective.”

Sam hesitated, then shook his head. “I’m good, thanks.”

Alex snorted in light amusement. “Smart man.”

Dean just frowned. “Suit yourself.” He shoved the plastic bottle back in his pocket.

Sam let out a long breath. “So, how long was I out again?”

 “I’m telling you like two or three minutes.” Dean looked over at Alex who nodded in affirmation. “Why? What’d it feel like to you?”

“About a week, give or take.”

“Probably a ‘hell’ thing,” Alex suggested. “Time moves a lot faster down there.”

“Yeah, well, he wasn’t actually in hell.”

“Yeah, well, it’s the best I got,” Alex shot back, lack of sleep making her temper short. She took her coffee grumpily.

“You want to talk about it?” Dean offered. He leaned against the trunk next to his brother, casting him a sidelong glance.

“ ‘It?’ ” Sam repeated.

“Yeah, whatever that was. I mean, it was like you were fucking electrocuted.”

The two brothers stared at each other for a several second before Sam finally caved. “Look, I mean, it wasn’t fun, but I-I’m . . . fine.”

“Fine,” Dean repeated, disapproval in his voice. “It was hell, wasn’t it? Alex saw it too.”

“What?” Sam looked over at her, very much confused.

“Yeah.” Alex took a sip of her coffee before continuing. “I did some sort of, uh, Vulcan mind-melding. So unless you have some other memory where you’re burning and everything else is burning, I’d call that hell.”

“You got a big, fat face full of hell. Ever cross your mind that you could have died?”

“Oh, come on.”

“I’m serious. And none of this ‘it’ just a flesh wound’ crap. Cause we did it your way. We let you go explore, and every bad thing that I said would happen _happened_. So guess what. Past stays past. We’re not kicking that wall again.”

“So I’m just suppose to ignore it?”

“Yes.”

“Dean . . . I might have done . . . who knows what, and you just want me to forget about it?”

“You shove it down, and you let it come out in spurts of violence and, and alcoholism.”

“That sounds healthy.”

“Works for me.” When Sam sighed, Dean continued. “It’s not a joke. Your life is on the line here, Sam. This is not a debate. I mean, first you were a soulless dickbag, and now you’re not. So we good?”

A long pause, and Alex looked up at Sam, waiting for an answer. “Yeah,” he finally said. “Sure.”

Dean and Alex exchanged glances. “Sure,” Alex echoed.

“Well, let’s get your mind off of it, shall we?” Dean suddenly picked up the newspaper, showing them the first page. “You, uh, you up for a job?”

“Well, yeah,” Sam nodded. “What you got?”

“Janitor murdered in a college lab last night. Doors were locked, nobody else in or out of the building.”

Alex nodded in agreement. Sounded good. “Awesome. Where?”

“Paterson, New Jersey.” Dean let out a smirk. “Maybe we’ll have a Snooki sighting,” he added with a chuckle.

Alex wrinkled her nose, and Sam looked utterly confused. “What’s a Snooki?”

“That is a good question.”

“Isn’t it that giant mammoth thing on _Sesame Street_?” Alex guessed.

“No. That’s a Snuffleupagus,” Dean corrected. He grabbed the bag of food and opened the car door.

“Oh.” Alex circled around to her side before stopping. “Wait. How exactly do you know that?”

Dean just grinned.

 

**November 20th, 2015**

**Paterson, New Jersey**

**I** t was only a two hour drive. By lunchtime all three of them were walking through the locker corridors towards the crime scene. Alex straightened the collar on her white button down, shaking out her wings to make the feathers lie flat.

“Stop touching that,” Dean chastised, knocking her hand away. “You look fine.”

“Is she still playing with her collar?” Sam glanced down at her, the smallest hint of amusement on his face.

Alex straightened her back, staring up at him. “It won’t lie flat,” she protested. “It feels weird on my wings.”

The two Winchester’s exchanged looks, then Dean stepped in front of her. Large hands skirted around the collar of her shirt, fixing the back where it lay crooked. “Leave it as is,” he warned her before turning to walk away.

Alex followed, wings twitching uncomfortably. “Now my wings itch,” she muttered. She glanced around the building with a roll of her eyes. “I hate high school. It was stupid.”

“You were just being a bitch,” Dean shot back light heartedly.

“I was bullied!”

“You broke the kid’s arm!” Dean threw his head back in emphasis. “And that was _after_ he was down.”

“I broke his _wrist_ , and the bitch totally deserved it.”

“Wait, what?” Sam turned in confusion. “I don’t . . .”

“Dean made me go to high school after you took the swan dive.”

“What?” Sam stared at his brother in confusion. “Why?”

Dean shrugged. “Because I told Lisa she was eighteen, okay? It seemed like a better idea to think she was taking in an eighteen year old teen then a twenty year old angel.”

Alex shrugged, not really finding a problem with that. “I had to see a _counselor_ ,” she told Sam. “He made me talk about my feelings. Which was extremely difficult since I had basically been assaulted by the fucking devil.” The minute the words were out of her mouth she regretted it.

Sam visibly winced. He turned around and kept walking, leaving Dean and Alex to catch up. “What’s up with him?” Dean’s lips twisted into a frown.

“It’s personal.” Alex added quietly, “I’ll tell you later.”

They walked into the science lab to find forensics working through evidence at the far end. Sam and Dean flashed their badges to the officers by them before entering. Alex did the same, not giving them a chance to inspect her ID before stepping into the room. She looked around; everything was clean. White walls, dark grey lab benches. Pristine condition. Apart from the blood splatters on the floor.

“Check it out.” Dean hurried past her, stopping by a life-size anatomical dummy “This thing’s freaking awesome.” He pulled out a lung with a grin before removing the heart. Then he turned to his brother, holding the plastic organ out. “Be my valentine?”

“Dude, we’re working. Put it back.”

“Have a heart.”

“Dean!”

Alex laughed, hurrying over to stand by her friend. “This is so cool,” she agreed, removing the spleen. Then she looked up at Dean. “We should confiscate this for evidence,” she deadpanned.

“I like how you think.” Dean tossed the heart up and down a few times before pausing. “You smell sulphur?”

“Yeah,” Sam agreed. “We’re in a science lab.”

“Right.” Dean tossed the heart up one more time before setting it on the workbench. His phone rang, and he quickly pulled it out, stepping off to the side.

“Who is it?” Sam asked, glancing over at his brother. When Dean didn’t answer, he guessed, “So, Lisa?” Alex watched as he reached into his suit jacket and pulled out his EMF detector.

“Maybe you should mind your own business,” Dean shot back, stuffing his cell back into his pocket.

“What’s wrong with just talking to her, Dean?”

“Thanks, Dr. Laura. That — that’s very insightful.” Before his brother could respond, he added, “Look at that. Our time is up.”

Sam nodded in amusement at his brother’s joke. He looked down at the EMF detector, and he frowned. “Hey.”

Alex looked over to see all five lights lit up and buzzing. Sam moved it over the dummy, and the EMF spiked again.

“Whoa. Ghosts gone wild. Something’s up here.” Dean looked around the lab.

“Question is, what?”

Dean’s gaze wandered upwards. “Sam. Good news.” He nodded up towards the ceiling. “Big brother’s watching.”

Alex followed his gaze up to a security camera that was mounted on the far corner. “Let’s check it out,” she agreed.

Sam walked off towards the door, stopping when the two of them didn’t follow. “You coming?” Dean looked over at the anatomy dummy, conflict weighing in his eyes. Sam let out a huff of realization. “We’re not taking that with.”

“You sure?” Dean walked off after his brother. “It’s pretty cool. Hey. How about as a Christmas gift for Bobby, huh?”

“I’d be down with that,” Alex agreed, following after the Winchesters. “Or maybe we should get him a microwave,” she suggested. “He needs one.”

“Can we talk about this later?” Sam returned from where he had been talking to two police officers. “You know, when we’re not working.”

“We’re always working,” Alex mumbled. She trailed after Sam down to the security office. She sat down in a black office chair, spinning mindlessly as Sam sat down beside her and skimmed through the security footage. A hand on the back of her chair had her stilling, and she tipped her head back to pout up at Dean.

“Here.” Sam pointed to the screen in front of her. Alex saw a janitor mopping the science room floor. Everything looked normal for several minutes, and the angel frowned. Then the man stopped, looking around in confusion. He turned around, and the monitor suddenly flickered to static.

Alex frowned up at Dean. “Ooh. Sounds ghosty.”

Dean nodded. He clapped the back of the chair. “Best guess.”

Alex looked up at him. “So . . . Now what?”

“Divide and conquer.” Dean moved to go. “Sammy, check out the girlfriend. I’ll look into the building. I”ll drop Alex off at the morgue on the way there.”

Alex grinned. “Yay. I like the morgue.” She bit back laughter when Dean just rolled his eyes.

 

 **A** fter dropping Sam off at the girlfriend’s house, Dean drove her down to the morgue. Dr. Harter met her outside the autopsy room. “Agent.” He nodded nervously at Alex. “We are j-just wrapping up the autopsy.”

Alex nodded. “Okay. Can I see the body?”

“S-Sure. Right this way.” The medical doctor led them through the set of double doors. “D-Don’t mind the mess,” he stuttered. “It’s been a bit of a hectic week.”  
   
“I can tell.”Alex looked around, an eyebrow raised. The floor was slightly wet with blood still pooled around the drain. Medical equipment lay all around, and a gurney sat discarded in the corner.

“So, you mind telling what happened?”

Dr. Harter stopped in front of the body. The y-incision had yet to be closed, and Alex studied the neat mess of organs that lay in full view.

“S-Steve Wasserman came in with a large cut to his forehead here.” The doctor pointed to the gash on the body’s temple. “It cut straight through his temporal artery. Antemortem.”

“Then what killed him?”

“Well, let me put it this way.” Another man stepped into the room. Young, short blonde hair, dark eyes. “When he came in, his organs weren’t as neat as you see now.”

Dr. Harter nodded. “Several la-lacerations to the midsection.”

“Fifty shades of gutted,” the younger man added breezily. He sauntered over to his mentor, glancing down at Alex. “And you are?”

“Agent Page.” Alex flashed her badge. “FBI.”

The man just blinked. “Huh.” Then he strolled away.

“Y-You’ll have to forgive Nick,” Dr. Harter stammered. “He’s new.”

“Huh.” Alex watched him go for a second before turning back to the body that lay in front of her. “Anything else you can tell us?”

“No.” Before Alex could respond he added, “Honest!”

 

 **“W** ell that was weird.” Dean agreed when Alex finished explaining what had happened. “Think he was hiding something?”

Alex shook her head. “You obviously didn’t smell him,” she retorted. “He was high. And pretty high at that.”

“On the job, huh?” Dean let out a huff of amusement. “I’d be paranoid too. And no, I didn’t _smell_ him. You know it’s not normal to smell other people, Pip.”

Alex just rolled her eyes. “That’s what the government wants you to think,” she quipped. “Now where?”

“Sam should be wrapping up pretty soon.”

 

 **W** hen Sam opened the front door Alex slid over the seat, landing on the backseat with a huff. Dean quickly shoved his phone back into his suit pocket. “Hey.” Dean paused, clearing his throat. “So what’d you find out from the, uh, mop jockey’s girlfriend?”

Sam sighed. “Nothing. Just how great he was. Went to church, donated to charity, rubbed her feet during _Glee_ —”

“I just threw up in my mouth a little.”

“Sorry. Anyways, I checked his record. Spotless. What about the science building? Anything?”

“Built in ’05. Nothing weird about the land. Before this, the biggest mishap was some genius accidentally spilled sulfuric acid on his crotch. They don’t even dissect anything good in there. Anything bigger than Kermit they use an iPad.”

Alex frowned. “Where’s the fun in that?” she asked. “You’re never gonna learn about anatomy that way. Got to get in there with your hands.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“So we got nothing?” Sam reiterated. He looked back at Alex. “Anything?”

She shook her head. “Only wounds was a laceration across his forehead. Oh, and the fact that his guts were practically on the ground. But nothing helpful.”

“Great.” Dean started the engine. “How does lunch sound?”

 

 **T** hey spent the rest of day in town. With no leads and nothing to go on without another body, they eventually just retired to bed. Alex pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a tank top. Then she dug through Dean’s bag, pulling out his _Hell Hazers II_ t-shirt before slipping it on.

Dean stepped out of the bathroom in time to see her crawl into bed. “Is that my shirt?” When Alex nodded, he rolled his eyes. “I thought we had gotten over you wearing my clothes.”

Alex tugged on the black hem. “I like it,” she admitted. “It’s comfy. And it smells like you.” She heard Sam snort in amusement. “What?” she defended. “I don’t like sleeping alone; I get scared.”

“I didn’t say anything.” Sam shut his laptop and stood up, long arms stretching high above his head. “Do what you want.”

Alex grumbled to herself, but curled up in the large bed. “Dean,” she protested when the hunter climbed into the other bed. “No! I don’t want to sleep alone! It’s cold!”

“Then Sam can sleep with you.” Dean’s eyes followed his brother as he crossed the motel room and disappeared into the bathroom. “Last time I shared the bed with you, you kicked me.”

Alex got out of the bed and crawled over next to Dean. She sat beside his hips, staring down at him. Dean folded his arms behind his head, holding her gaze. “I don’t Sam really wants to do that,” she finally said, keeping her voice low. “He’s a little . . . hesitant around me.” Before Dean could ask why she explained, “You know he remembers a lot, right? About when he was possessed by Lucifer. Like, he remembers it all. Everything he did to me.” She dropped her gaze to her lap. “So . . . yeah. Things are a little awkward.”

Dean held her gaze for a second before nodding. “As long as you don't kick me again.” He threw back the sheets and pulled up the hem of his shirt to show a small bruise on his hip. “You see that? Don’t do that again.”

Alex laughed, curling up beside the hunter. “I’ll see what I can do.”

 

 **A** lex woke up when she hit the floor. She let out a strangled cry, flailing around in surprise. She heard a laugh, and jumped to her feet. “The hell?” she snapped, staring at Dean.

“You kicked me.” Dean through back the covers before getting up. “I told you not to.”

“You’re right. I did that on purpose,” Alex shot back scathingly. She shook out her wings before letting out a long yawn. “What’s up?”

“Well, there’s been another murder.”

Alex rolled her eyes. “Back to high school.”

“Not quite.” Sam stepped out of the bathroom, tie hanging loosely around his neck. “This one . . .”

Dean took over the explanation. “Might not be connected,” he finished. “At a factory three towns over. Another maintenance man, killed after hours. Building was locked, no one in or out.”

Alex frowned, slightly confused. “So you think we’ve got an MO?” she finally asked. “Janitors?”

“Might be. Then again, might not.” Dean brushed past his brother on the way to the bathroom. “Get packed. We’re leaving in five.”

 

 **A** lex followed the Winchesters in through the front door of the mannequin factory. An officer directed them down a hallway to an open room. Inside they found two forensics strapping a body to a gurney. Alex ran her eye over the corpse, taking in what she could. Male, Latino. Approximately in his early thirties, maybe late twenties. A large gash on his forehead and a puncture wound in his abdomen. She nudged Dean. “Same cut on the last vic,” she murmured as they passed.

As the gurney was rolled away, Alex saw a bloody piece of pipe lying on a clear tarp, evidence markers on all sides. Sam walked off to the right, and Alex stayed by Dean, following him through the warehouse. Boxes of plastic hands and legs lay around, and Alex half-heartedly poked at one. “I don’t like mannequins,” she muttered. A high pitched whine reached her ears, and she tipped her head to see Sam standing by a large box of parts, EMF in hand.

“Dean.” Sam waved them over.

“Yeah?”

“The thing’s humming.” Sam demonstrated, waving the EMF in front of the box.

“Hmm.”

“Wait.” Sam suddenly closed the EMF, turning to look at his brother. “That anatomy dummy you were molesting in the lab.”

Dean looked confused and slightly offended. “Excuse me?”

“What if that’s what this is about?”

“What exactly are you accusing me of?”

Sam shook his head. “I don’t mean that. I mean, there was an anatomy dummy there, and here . . .” He motioned to a mannequin for emphasis.

“You’re joking.” Sam made a face, and Dean turned back to the dummy, glancing at Alex on the way. “He’s not joking,” he told her. “Okay, uh, so what, we’ve got — we’ve got a bunch of killer dolls like . . . Chucky? I mean, come on. That — that’s just . . .” Dean stared at the mannequin’s blank white face for several long seconds, “fucking creepy,” he finally finished.

Sam let out a breath as he thought it through. “I mean, if ghosts can possess humans and, and move objects . . . why can’t they possess this?”

“I suppose. But riddle me this, bat boy. Ghosts aren’t exactly known for hopping county lines, right?”

“Agreed,” Alex nodded.

“This one hits up a college and then a factory, what? Three towns over?”

“Doesn’t add up,” Sam reluctantly agreed.

“I saw that cut on his forehead,” Alex argued. “Same cut, same place. The only thing I know that does that is a vengeful spirit.”

Dean nodded. “So we dig. Over there.” Dean glanced over at the mannequin beside him. “I don’t like the way this one’s looking at me.” He walked over to one of the forensic women. “Do you know where I can find the files of all employees from here?” he asked, flashing her a small smile.

She nodded, barely sparing the Winchester a glance. “Down the hall, far left.”

“Thanks.”

Alex nodded as she followed the hunters away. “I showed you that Doctor Who episode, right?” she queried. “The one with the mannequins?”

“Yeah, yeah. I know what you’re talking about.”

Sam looked skeptical. “So now you think it’s aliens?”

The angel rolled her eyes. “Yeah. Plastic aliens. Sounds about right.” She poked Dean in the ribs. “I showed Cas that episode. I don’t think he got it though.”

“Yeah. The dude can’t even understand analogies. I don’t think he’s ready for science fiction.” Dean turned left and pushed open a heavy door. “What’s the vic’s name again?”

“Uh, a Joseph Wiley.”

“Wiley.” Dean turned to the large filing cabinets while Sam sat down at a sturdy oak desk, powering up an old mac laptop. Alex sat down on the desk, watching as Dean found the file and sat down in a chair. He flipped through it in silence before closing it with a sigh. “Well, this dead guy’s as squeaky clean as the last dead guy,” he informed them, setting the folder down on the desk. “I can’t find a speck of dirt on him. You?”

“Nothing,” Sam sighed. After another second he let out an interested breath. “Hmm. Well, here’s a speck.” Alex leaned over the desk to see Sam looking at a newspaper article. “Uh, a seamstress name Rose Brown went missing over a year ago. Uh, cops just gave up on her. Presumed dead. Survived by sister Isabel.”

“Fifty bucks vengeful spirit.” Dean nodded, moving to stand up.

“Hey hey hey.” Alex frowned at him. “I’m pretty sure I already called ‘vengeful spirit,’ thank you.”

“Well now I’m putting money on it,” Dean countered.

Sam stood up. “Pay sis a visit?” he suggested, effectively putting an end to their bickering. “Let’s go.”

Dean opened his mouth to answer, but his phone rang instead. He picked it up from where it lay on the desk, frowning down at the number. He moved to ignore it.

Sam’s voice stopped him. “Answer it.”

The hunter hesitated, staring at his brother. When Sam didn’t give in Dean rolled his eyes, standing up. He answered. “Lisa?” Pause. “Ben?” Confusion filled his voice. “What are you —” He was cut off. “What are you talking about?” Pause. Then, “Define ‘bad.’ ”

At that, Alex stood up, suddenly very worried. “Is everything okay?”

Dean ignored her. “Alright, put her on the phone.” Another, longer pause. “Ben, put your mother on the phone.” Dean’s voice was sharp with worry now, and Alex’s feathers ruffled slightly in fear for the worst. “Alright. Let me call you back. Five minutes.” He hung up, turning around to face them, and Alex took a step closer.

“What’s wrong?” she persisted worriedly.

“Ben says something’s wrong with Lis. Uh, uh, said she keeps her door locked, won’t get out of bed, won’t talk to him.”

Sam shared in Alex’s concern. “So . . ?”

“So he’s probably exaggerating,” Dean finished, shoving his phone in his pocket.

“Are you serious?” Sam looked between Alex and Dean, completely surprised.

“Yeah. Lisa will be fine. We’re working a case here.”

“Dean, this is Ben and Lisa.” Sam stood up, moving towards his brother. “You should go.” He quickly left the office, leaving Alex and Dean to catch up with him outside.  
   
“Come on, man. I-I can’t just leave.”  
   
“Dude, you got to leave.”

“Yeah, but we’re talking life or death here.”

“Right. I can handle it for twenty-four hours, Dean. I get you want to bury it. But I had to deal with my past year. You got you deal with yours.”

“Oh yeah, that worked so great for you,” Dean snapped back.

“I’ll come with,” Alex volunteered. “I . . . I know I wasn’t that close to them, but they still mean a lot. If something’s wrong, I want to help.”

Sam herded Dean towards the Impala. “Just go.”

 

 **I** t was a few hours later that Dean’s phone rang. Alex grabbed it before he could, looking at the number. Then she answered it, putting in on speaker phone. “Hey, Sam. What’s up?”  
   
“Dean there?”

“Yeah, I’m here.”

“Hey, so get this. That college janitor? He worked at the factory too, until last year. Apparently right after Rose’s disappearance.”

“So fair bet something happen to that girl at the factory, so let’s call that ground zero.”

“Right, but it still doesn’t explain how a ghost ended up at a college in another zip code.”

“It’s not like she hopped the blue line,” Dean agreed.

“So there’s something of hers that’s been both to the college and the factory,” Alex concluded.

“I’m headed to the factory,” Sam informed them. “I’ll call when I get the whole scoop on Rose.”

“Sounds good.” Alex hung up and tossed the phone onto the dashboard.

 

**Cicero, Indiana**

**T** hey pulled up to Lisa’s around eight that night. Alex jumped out of the car, confused when Dean didn’t do the same. “Come on,” she urged.

Dean reluctantly got out. “Let me handle this,” he told her, taking the lead. Alex eagerly did so, letting him lead the way up to the front door. He peered in through the window nervously as he rang the doorbell several times. Alex stretched out a wing to comfort him.

The door opened, and Lisa appeared, a smile on her face. Then it went blank with shock. There was a pause, and Alex could feel the confusion rolling off of the two humans. “Dean. What are you doing here?”

“Well, you look absolutely fine.” Dean managed to get out. He peered in the house, still confused.

Lis looked down at Alex, who smiled half-heartedly. “Is everything okay?” she asked. She studied the woman; she looked perfectly healthy, and was even dressed up. She must be going out.

“Everything okay?” Lisa looked between Dean and Alex. “What’s going on?”

Dean let out a sharp breath. “We’ve been ‘parent-trapped,’ ” he finally explained, annoyance lining his tone.

“What?”

“Ben sent out a 9-1-1.”

Lisa’s eyes narrowed in confusion. “Why would he do that?”

Dean studied Lisa for only a second before explaining, “You’re going on a date, huh?”

Lisa sighed. “Come in.” She held the door open for them as Dean and Alex stepped into the house. They let Lisa shut the door before she led them into the kitchen. “Beer’s in the fridge.”

Dean nodded and pulled out two, handing one to Alex. The disappointed frown on Lisa’s face was not missed as the angel cracked hers open. “I’m twenty-one,” she promised before taking a sip.

“You don’t have to explain yourself.” Lisa wandered around the kitchen, arms pulled in tightly to her chest in apprehension.

“You want to sit down?” Dean offered from where he was seated on the island stool.

“Not so much.”

Some silence. Then, “So who’s the guy?” He meant it to be indifferent, but emotion crept into his voice.  
   
“ ‘Who’s the guy?’ ” Lisa repeated, turning to face Dean. Then she sighed. “His name is Matt. He’s a doctor.”

“Oh, Dr. Matt.” Dean nodded in approval. “How respectable.”

“Really?” Frustration and anger flitted across Lisa’s face. “That’s how this is gonna be?”

A loaded pause before Dean looked up. “Look, I—”

“I called you six times, Dean.”

“And I almost called you back about a hundred.”

“Good to know.” Lisa turned away, pulling her cardigan closer around her.

“Lis, Ben called me. I dropped everything and ran. If you want to know if I care —”

“Doesn’t help me.”

“What do you want from me?”

“I don’t want anything.”

“Then ask for something!”  
   
“Umm . . .”

All three turned to see Ben standing in the kitchen doorway. “Go to your room!” Dean and Lisa snapped at the same time. Alex’s wings twitched in frustration as the boy hurried away.

Lisa sat down on the bar stool next to Dean, drawing his attention back to her. “You know, I . . . I can’t.” she finally said, voice soft and quiet. “I can’t ask for anything. I know what I want. But I can’t have it — not with how you live. My phone rings and I think, tiny chance it’s you, big chance that it’s Sam or Alex calling to tell me you’re dead.”

“Lis . . .”

“No, don’t.” Lisa cut him off. “Don’t apologize or anything. It’s just . . . I just get to this place where it’s okay, and then you show up at our door. You keep doing that. Every time I think I’m never gonna see you again. I’m trying to get over you. What are you trying to do? What do you want from us, Dean?”

Silence. Dean stared at his lap, not responding. The silence grew and grew, until Dean finally sighed. “I’m sorry.” He set his beer down on the counter. “I . . . I’m gonna talk to Ben. Then I can leave.” Then he went upstairs, leaving Alex and Lisa alone.

Alex sighed and took a long sip of her drink. “How’s everything been?” she asked quietly, trying to start up conversation in the awkward silence.

“Fine.” Lisa reached up to touch her hair, adjusting one of the bobby pins.  
   
“You look fine,” Alex promised. Then she sighed, looking around. “I miss this place,” she began.

“Don’t.”

“I’m serious. And I know Dean misses it too. Having a bed that’s all yours, a room. Fully functional kitchen.” Alex nodded as she set her beer down. “I don’t think we’re ever gonna have something like that.” She sighed again when she saw how Lisa was looking at her. “Sorry. Here.” She pulled open the second drawer, retrieving a post-it note and pencil. “My number. Listen. Hopefully this never happens, but if there’s anything even _suspicious_ , call me. I’ll get down here as soon as possible.” She stuck the number to the fridge. “Shit tends to follow us hunters around, okay? I just want you to be safe.”

Footsteps marked the return of Dean, and Alex fell quiet. “We should be going,” Dean told Lisa.

Lisa just nodded, and Alex and Dean left.

 

 **A** lex leaned her head against the Impala’s window, eyes closed. “I’m sorry, Dean.” Dean didn’t respond, and she looked over at him to see his gaze fully focused on the road ahead. “Dean.” Dean still didn’t respond, and Alex slid across the seat, curling up and pressing her shoulder comfortingly into his. “At least they’re safe.”

Dean still said nothing, and Alex sat up. “Hey. Dean. Dean!” When the hunter finally looked at her, she suggested, “Maybe we should find a place to stop for the night. We drove eleven hours here, let’s take a break before we drive eleven hours back. You need to sleep, man,” she persisted. “You _cannot_ drive for twenty four hours straight.”

“Fine.” Dean shook his head, clearing his thoughts. “Okay, yeah. Fine.”

 

 **T** hey drove back up to Paterson, New Jersey the next day. Sam had called sometime around 3 pm, informing them that he had found the haunted object, and to meet him in the parking lot of abounded gas station on Maine and 2nd. He agreed that they needed to destroy the cursed thing; however, there was one small problem.

Dean threw the Impala into park and got out, Alex close on his heels. Across the parking lot, Sam did the same. “So,” Dean began, “that’s the girl with the haunted kidney, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, just when you think you’ve see it all.” Dean stopped in front of his brother, an eyebrow raised.

“Right?”

“What do you want to do?” Dean continued. “Can’t exactly burn the thing. I mean, she kind of needs it.”

“Well, she can’t just walk around with it, Dean. The spirit’s attached. It’s gonna use her to get close to anyone it wants revenge on. It’s not gonna stop killing.”

“I can give it a shot,” Alex suggested. “I mean, I’m sure an angel can detach ghost, right?”

“Yeah, how about no. You don’t know what the fuck you’re doing, right? You could kill her.”

“Yeah, well this _thing_ has already killed three people, so it’s not like we can do nothing. What do you suggest? Cut it out?”

“And then what?” Sam added. “Leave her in a tub of ice with a phone taped to her hand?”

“Maybe we should call Dr. Roberts,” Dean suggested. “Might have some leads on a non-haunted, black market replacement kidneys.”

“He works out of a butcher shop.”

“It’s pretty clean,” Dean said defensively. “You’d be surprised.”

“No. I think we have to go hoodoo.”

“Hoodoo?” Dean repeated, unconvinced.

“Yeah, hoodoo.”

“That’s more of a band-aid, not really a cure.”  

“It buys us a minute.”

Dean hesitated, then nodded. “Okay. Louisiana it is.”

“Voodoo?” All three spun around to see a woman standing there. Alex flared her wings out in surprise, shocked that she had been so focused on the conversation she hadn’t felt her approach. The woman continued, voice shrill with fear. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Actually it’s ‘hoodoo,’ ” Dean corrected. “It’s a little different.”

Sam rolled his eyes at his brother before turning to the woman. “Hold on, Isabel.”

“You’re not feds.” The blonde took a step back, fear flickering in her eyes.

“Just let us explain —” Sam was cut off by the ever-familiar sound of an engine revving. Alex turned in time to stare at the Impala.  
   
“No. No way.”

“That’s impossible,” Isabel said fearfully.

“No. No no no no no.” Dean walked towards his car, confusion and indignation filling his voice. “She possesses sex dolls. This is not a sex doll.”

In response, the car’s headlights turned on, and Dean stopped his approach. Alex stretched her grace out towards the car, shivering at the cold she felt. “Possessed,” she confirmed.

“Hey!” Dean yelled. He took another step towards his car. “You leave my Baby alone! She’s got nothing to do with this!” He started backpedaling as the car rolled forward, gradually picking up speed. “Go go go go go!” He turned tail and ran. Sam and Isabel ran over to the other car, and Dean took off in the other direction.

Alex hesitated, not sure what to do. Nothing she knew could stop a ghost possession, and she soon found her feet taking off after Dean. Fear made her wings pull in tight, and her grace pushed out. She felt the wheels spin, crunching over small pebbles, and heard the engine getting closer and closer. Suddenly a hand grabbed her jacket, pulling her off to the left. “Son a bitch,” she heard Dean curse as she regained her footing. “I’m so sorry baby.”

 _What?_ Alex looked up in shock to see the Impala charging straight towards her. She dove out of the way and heard a large crash, and glass flew everywhere, hurtling through her wings and bouncing off of her clothed back. She stumbled, looking behind her to see that the Impala had crashed through the gas station window. She turned her gaze to the others. Dean was laying on the ground, and Sam and Isabel were standing off to the side. Blood was in the air, thick and heavy, and Alex sprinted around the Impala to stand in front of Isabel. The young woman stumbled and fell, a large shard of glass impaled through her stomach. Sam was helping his brother to his feet, exchanging worried words. “Guys!” Alex pulled their attention over to her.

“Isabel?” Sam pushed her out of the way, kneeling down beside the injured woman. “Hey hey hey.”

“Get out of the way!” Alex roughly shoved him, reaching out with her grace. She pushed and prodded, finding the problem, but the girl’s soul was slipping away.

The air grew cold, but Alex didn’t look up. All her attention was focused on saving the young woman, and she almost missed the words uttered by a voice she had never heard before. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for this.” Something behind her lit up in flames, and the air grew warmer as the spirit burned away.

“Alex.” Sam gently pulled her away.

Alex dropped her hands to her side, brushing the blood off onto the pavement. “She’s gone.”

 

 **T** he next forty eight hours found Alex sitting on the couch at Bobby’s. The hunter was out, working a case in southern Florida with Rufus, and Alex was rightfully envious. There wasn’t any snow on the ground, but the day was overcast and cold. To make things worse, a huge snow storm was predicted in the next few days, and the Winchesters were talking about bailing before it hit. But without Bobby, Rufus, or Garth in town, it was up to Alex to stay behind and man the house.

“Hey.” Dean stepped into the room, glancing around. “You know when Bobby’s coming back?”

“Well, there are a lot of ways you could find out,” Alex countered. “You could . . . hmm. You could _call_ him.”

“Oh, shut up.”

Alex huffed in amusement as she heard him turn to go.

However, the hunter seemed to change his mind. “You know, it’s not your fault.” Dean approached, and Alex pulled her wings in tight, not keen on where this conversation was going. “Isabel’s death.”

“I know.”

“You did everything you could, Pip. I don’t know how the whole ‘angel’ thing works, but I know you —”

“Dean.” Alex finally looked up, cutting him off. “Stop. I _know_.”


	12. The French Mistake

**December 2nd, 2011**

**Sioux Falls, South Dakota**

**I** t was a few weeks later. Sam and Dean were both back at Bobby’s for a few days, agreeing that they had to hit this “Mother of All” thing hard, although currently the old hunter was in town. Supply run, he had claimed. Of course, Alex knew that included getting drunk, which meant he wouldn’t be back for quite a long time. The howling of wind had her glancing out the window, and Alex frowned to see snow slamming against the window.

Footsteps approached, and Sam entered the room carrying several heavy books. “Where’s Bobby?”

“In town,” Dean answered from where he was sitting at the desk. “Supply run.”

“Doubt he’ll be back tonight,” Alex added. “Not in the storm like this.”

Sam grunted in agreement. He dropped the books on the desk. “He went out in this?” He glance out the window in surprise.

“Man is a hero.” Dean held up the empty bottle of liquor. “We are officially out of hunter’s helper.” He closed his laptop, on which he had been researching Eve.

Lightning flashed, and Alex jumped to her feet as her wings tingled. “Angel,” she hissed, glancing over at the Winchesters to see they were still confused as to _why_ lightning flashed in a snowstorm.

“Hello, boys. Alex.”

Alex spun around to see Balthazar standing in the doorway to the kitchen, and her wings arched high in warm greeting. “Balthazar.”

“You’ve seen _The Godfather_ , right?” He crossed the room to stand by the desk.

“B . . .”

“You know, the end where Michael Corleone sends his men to kill his enemies in one big bloody swoop?” He set a wooden bowl down on the desk and turned to the bookshelf behind him.

“Hey!” Dean stood up, speaking directly to the angel.

Balthazar ignored him. “Dead sea brine,” he muttered, glancing at the cardboard container he had picked up. “Good good good. You know, Moe Greene gets it in the eye, and Don Cuneo gets it in the revolving door?” He continued with his rambling as he poured in a fair amount of salt.

“I said ‘hey,’ ” Dean repeated sharply.

Balthazar stopped what he was doing. “You did,” he scathingly praised. “Twice. Good for you.” He patted Dean on the shoulder before looking around. “Blood of lamb, blood of lamb.”

He flared his wings and Alex watched him fly into the kitchen. “Fridge,” she suggested.

The angel twitched his wings in acknowledgment, flinging open the refrigerator door. “Beer, cold pizza, blood of lamb.” He pulled out the glass jar. “Yes!” He showed it to the hunters. “Blood of lamb.” His wings flared again, and he was back in front of the wooden bowl, pouring the thick contents of the jar into the bowl.

“B?” Alex hurried over to him. “What’s going on? Why are you talking about _The Godfather_?” Her wings folded forward in worry.

The angel stopped what he was doing to look at her. “Because we’re in it. Right now. Tonight. And in the role of Michael Corleone: the archangel, Raphael.” And with that, he started digging through Bobby’s desk.

Dean stepped out of his way, a frown on his face. “You mind telling us what you mean?” he asked somewhat crossly.

“No. No no no no no.” Balthazar started dumping the drawers out onto the desk, desperately searching for something. Then he stopped and rapped on the bottom of the drawer. “Yes.” He grinned victoriously, tearing off the false bottom in the drawer. He held up a small plastic bag with a part of a spine in it. “Bone of a lesser saint. This vertebra will do quite nicely. Your Mr. Singer does keep a beautiful pantry.”

“Wait? Raphael is after you?”

 “Raphael is after all of us,” the angel corrected, crushing the bone in his fist. He brushed the powder off of his hands before looking up at Dean. ‘You see, he’s consolidated his strength, and now he’s on the move.”

Worry pulsed through Alex. “Where’s Cas?”

“Oh, Cassie? He’s alive,” Balthazar promised. “But he is deep _deep_ underground. So, good old Raphy put out a hit list on every last samaritan who helped our dear old Cas — including both of you. But much more importantly, me.” He flicked a wing towards Alex, letting out a wet cough. “And you . . . well, you know what he’ll do to you. See, he wants to draw Cas out into the open.” He hurried over to the window, mixing up his concoction with a spoon he must have gotten from the kitchen.

“Yeah, I suppose fucking with Alex would do that,” Dean agreed.

Sam, however, didn’t seem so convinced by the angel’s spiel. “And you just expect us just to believe you?”

“Oh, don’t. You’ll go where I throw you either way.” Balthazar dipped his finger into the bowl and drew a large circle on the window.

“And what’s that suppose to mean?” Sam stepped forward.

The lights flickered, and lightning flashed again, ruffling the angels’ feathers, and Alex drew her wings in tight. Balthazar finished the sigil and straightened up. “That’s all the time we have, gentlemen.” He dug through his pockets. Then he checked the inside pocket of his jacket.

Alex frowned in worry at the sight of the bloodstain on his left chest. “B!” She stepped forward, wings folding forward around him. She gingerly touched it, grace instinctually flowing into the angel.

Balthazar pushed her away. “We don’t have time.”

“What happened?”

“You see, uncle Raphy sent one of his nastiest to handle me. I’m flattered, really. And down to one lung at the moment, but that’s alright.” He held out a keychain to Sam. “Oh, this is for you.”

Sam took it, studying the single key that was attached. “What am I suppose to do with this?”

“Run with it.”

Grace sparked through the air, and Alex spun around in fear as Balthazar flew across the room. “B!” She turned to face the kitchen where an angel stalked towards them, dark wings flared out wide. Her gaze went to her angel blade which lay on the desk.

“Virgil.” Balthazar staggered to his feet. He turned on the three of them. “I said run!” He roughly pushed a hand towards him. His grace hit them like a tidal wave, sending all three flying backwards through the window. Alex brought her wings up to protect her from the shards of glass, and then she was falling.

She hit something soft with a grunt. Sam and Dean landed beside her.

“Cut!” A loud voice reached her ears, and she raised her head. She felt Sam and Dean scramble to their feet, and they froze.

Alex froze as well. A large group of people stood in front of them, many of them clapping. Cameras pointed in their direction, and a boom mic was over their head. “Holy shit,” she managed to breathe out.

“Real good solid fall,” A man beside Dean said, slapping him amiably on the ass. “Way to go.”

Dean jumped, eyes wide.

“Outstanding,” the large man behind the camera said, pointing in their direction. “That was great.”

A man walked behind them with a clapper board. “ _Supernatural_ scene one echo, take one.” He told the camera that lay behind them in — what Alex realized with a jolt — was Bobby’s study. “Tail slate. Marker!”

The people started to disperse, and the three of them stood up. “So . . .” Sam slowly said, “No angels?”

“No angels, I think,” Dean agreed.

“Should we be killing anybody?” the younger Winchester persisted.

“I don’t think so.”

“Running?”

“Where?”

Both Winchesters looked thoroughly confused and frightened, and Alex stepped off of the fall mattress. It was higher then she expected, and she stumbled, flaring her wings — wait. No wings. Alex hit the ground, a small shriek falling from her lips as she tried to feel her wings. “No wings!” she insisted, confused and scared.

“Somebody pick her up,” the director instructed, obviously annoyed by her antics. Hands grabbed her arms, hauling her to her feet.

“My wings are gone.” Alex stared up in fear at the man.

“Cute.” He walked away, and Alex stumbled over to Sam and Dean.

Sam tossed something at her, and Alex caught it in confusion. It looked like glass, but moved like jello. She peered in through the broken window to see Bobby’s study, just the way they had left it. She could hear people talking. Something about a freeze frame, but she couldn’t care less. “The hell did Balthazar do?” she hissed.

“That’s a wrap on Jared and Jensen!”

The lights came on, and Alex flinched. Then, “Wait. Jared and Jensen?” She let out a sharp breath. “That son of a bitch.”

“Jared!” A woman came over to stand in front of Sam. “Three minutes, okay? Great.” She pulled him away, leaving Alex and Dean.

“Where are we going?” Dean asked, starting to follow.

“Jensen!” A second woman took Dean by the hand. “There you are. Let’s just get you in the chair.”

Then Dean was gone, leaving Alex standing all alone. She moved one way, then the other, torn as to which brother to follow.

“Watch it, Malmsten.” Two men carrying a large prop brushed by her, and Alex jumped out of the way.

“Watch yourself, asshat,” she called after them. Her shoulders rolled back, which was a strong sensation without her wings pulling them back on their own.

“Elaine.”

“B?” Alex stared up at Balthazar. “What the hell, man?”

“Haha. Funny.” The — wingless, Alex noted — man cocked an eyebrow. “You okay? You seem a little out of it.”

“I’m fine.” Alex looked around him, trying to catch sight of either of the Winchesters. She vaguely heard the guy say something, but ignored him.

“B!” A hand shook her out of her thoughts. “Are you even listening to me?”

“Wait, what?” Alex looked up into his face, confused. “Why did you call _me_ ‘B’?”

The man looked unamused. "Elaine, Blaine, B. We've been over this before."

“Sebastian!” A man on the other side of the room waved. “Come here for a second.”

The man next to her waved back, and Alex raised an eyebrow. “Sebastian?” she repeated. “Like the crab in _the Little Mermaid?_ ”

“Yeah, yeah. Adorable. You better not be high or something,” Sebastian warned. “Bob already can’t stand you. Oh, and Misha’s looking for you.” Another call of his name had him hurrying away.

 _Misha?_ The name sounded familiar. Alex scanned the dense crowd of people before she saw Sam and Dean making their way towards the large warehouse door. She ran after them, ducking through a large crowd of tech people. “Dean!” she called breathlessly, sliding to a stop beside them.

“ —show.” Sam cut off as Alex caught up. Then he continued. “I mean here — wherever ‘here’ is — this twilight zone Balthazar has zapped us into. For whatever reason, our life is a tv show.”

Dean looked down at Alex, a frown on his face. “Yeah, that doesn’t sound familiar at all.”

Alex shrugged. “This might be my world,” she whispered. “I, I mean, you guys have the names you, uh . . . used? Or the names you have here are the names of the actors . . . from where I’m from.” She frowned. “This might be my universe, yeah.” She looked around in confusion.

“It still seems stupid,” Dean grunted. “I mean, why would anybody want to watch our lives?”

“I don’t know.”

“No, seriously. Why would anybody want to watch our lives?”

“I don’t know,” Sam repeated. “But according to that interviewer, not very many people do. Look. I’m not saying it makes sense. I’m just saying we — we landed in some dimension where you’re Jensen Ackles, and I’m something called a Jared Padalecki.”

“So what? Now you’re Polish?” Dean looked down at Alex. “What’s your name?”

“Uh . . . not sure yet.” Alex looked around. “Something Malmsten. Thought it might be Elaine, but Balthazar — er, the guy who played him — called me B. So . . .”

“Isn’t that your nickname for him?”

“Yeah. Yeah, it is.”

They pushed their way out of the doors, and Alex saw Dean visibly relax. “Oh, hey. Least my Baby made it.” He started walking towards the Impala, and Alex followed, glad that at least there was something familiar. As they watched, a man walked up to the car. He was carrying a five gallon bucket, and as they watched, he immediately began slapping mud onto the windshield. Dean went tense. “Hey. Hey!” He picked up his pace. “What —” He froze and cut off.

Alex followed his gaze. Off to their right, just out of sight before, lay four other 1967 Chevy Impalas, all in different states of disarray. One lay propped up on several tires, badly wrecked with two of its doors missing.

She saw Dean reel backwards. “I feel sick,” he got out. “I’m gonna be sick.” He hurried away from the cars, and Alex and Sam exchanged looks. “I want to go home,” Dean added as they caught up to him. “I, I feel like this whole place is bad-touching me.”

“Welcome to the last three years of my life,” Alex grumbled in agreement.

“I want to go home too,” Sam agreed. “So what do you think? Cas?”

“He’s our best shot, if he’s still alive,” Dean agreed. He glanced at Alex, who was looking around, barely paying attention, so he closed his eyes. “Uh, dear Castiel, who art maybe running his ass away from heaven, we pray that you have your ears on. So . . . breaker, breaker . . .” He ended, opening one eye to look around.

Alex turned her attention back to Dean. “Beautiful,” she praised. “Really. That’ll get his attention. Nothing says ‘this is Dean’ like that.”

“You really can’t tell who is praying to you?”

“I hear your voice, so I recognize it that way, but its not like it comes with a return-to address.”

“Hey.” Sam cut her off, pointing off to their right.

“Cas?” Dean started off toward the trench-coated man. “Cas!”

Alex followed slowly, unsure. “He doesn’t have wings,” she whispered up to Sam. “I . . . I don’t know if it’s him.”

By this point, Dean had already reached Castiel. “Hey, thank God. What is all this, huh? W-What did Balthazar do to us?”

Castiel turned to look up at Dean. He stood slightly strange, and his voice rumbled from deep within his chest. Alex shifted uncomfortably. “To keep you out of Virgil’s reach, he’s cast you into an alternate reality, a universe similar to ours in most respects but dramatically different in others.”

“Like — like bizzaro earth, right? Except instead of having Bizzaro Superman, we get this clown factory.”

“Umm . . . yeah . . . well . . .”

Cas seemed to be having trouble with what Dean was saying, so Alex butted in. “So, is this _my_ universe? Like, where I’m from? Are you sure?”

“What?” Castiel looked between Alex and Dean. “Well, uh, anyways. No time to explain. Do you have the key?”

“Yeah.” Sam pulled the key out of his pocket and handed it to the angel. “So, uh, what does this thing do, anyways?”

“It opens a room.”

“No shit.”

What’s in the room?” Dean added.

“Every weapon Balthazar stole from heaven,” Castiel told them, giving Sam a strange look.

“He gave it to us?”

“To keep it safe until I could reach you. With those weapons, I have a chance to rally my forces.”

“Oh. Okay, good.” Sam nodded. “Yeah. So, now, uh, what’s the deal with all this tv crap?”

“Pardon?”

Dean didn’t seem to notice. “Amen, Padaleski.”

“Uh, ‘lecki.’ ”

“What?”

“Lecki,” Sam repeated. “Pretty sure.”

Meanwhile, Alex circled around the angel. “Where are your wings?” she asked curiously. “I can’t see mine either.”

“Man, did they put out new pages?” Suddenly Castiel’s voice rose in pitch, and Alex blinked in confusion. He didn’t sound like Cas anymore. She watched as the man pulled out several pieces of paper from his trench coat, flipping through in confusion.

“New what?”

“I mean, is this some sort of a cosmic joke?” Sam asked at the same time.

“Yeah, cause if it is, it’s stupid, and we don’t get it.”

“Are you guys okay?” The Cas look-a-like loosened his tie and began to unbutton his shirt.

“You seriously don’t have wings.” Alex poked him in the back.

The man turned around. “Come on, Elaine. Stop it.”

Alex dropped her arm, frowning in confusion. She watched as Dean snatched the papers out of the man’s hand, flipping through them. “Wait.” He stared at his brother, anger and frustration across his face. “These are words on a page. This isn’t Cas.”

“That explains the lack of wings.” Alex circled back around to stand beside Dean.

“What is up with you and wings?”

“His name is Misha.” Dean dropped his hand to his side in disgust. “ _Misha_?”

“Misha?” Alex repeated, an eyebrow cocked. “Oh. Uh, uh, S-Sebastian? He said you were looking for me?”

“Yeah. You didn’t answer your phone.” Misha stepped back as Sam pried the key from his hand and stalked away, Dean close behind. “Answer my damn text!” he called after her as she followed close behind.

“Misha, Jensen, what’s up with the names around here?” Dean grumbled.

“Elaine?” Alex agreed. She shook her head. “I don’t like it here.”

“I just want to dig my finger in my brain and scratch until we’re back in Kansas.”

“You and me both, Toto,” Alex muttered. She paused when she noticed the Winchesters had stopped, and backpedalled until she saw what they were looking at. A large trailer sat in front of them, the name _J Ackles_ on the side.

“Hey.” Sam pointed it out at the same time. “J. Ackles.”

“That’s fake me.” Dean pointed to himself, eyes never leaving the trailer. “This must be fake mine.”

“Good job, Sherlock.” Alex followed the Winchester up to the door. He pushed it open, and they entered.

A grin filled Dean’s face. “Dude. I have a helicopter!” He pointed to the large remote-control helicopter sitting in the middle of the room.

Alex, however, had her attention focused solely on the gigantic fish tank. “Dude dude dude!” She pointed to a particularly pink fish. “You have a fish tank. A fucking ginormous fish tank!”

“Who puts s 300-gallon fish tank in their trailer?” Sam wondered aloud.

Dean snorted. “Apparently Jensen Ackles.”

Alex slipped past them further into the trailer. “He lives here?” She shook her head in disbelief. “That’s not fucking fair!”

“Huh.” Sam sat down at a table and pulled a laptop closer. “Let’s see who this guy.”

“Well, he’s not a hunter, but he plays one one tv.” Dean pointed to the large flat screen tv that was running what appeared to be _Supernatural_. “Oh.” He reached down and picked a magazine up off of the coffee table. “Come on. Look at these male modeling sons of bitches.” He held it out so Sam and Alex could see. “Nice ‘blue steel,’ Sam.”

Alex snorted in amusement at the photo, turning her attention back to exploring the trailer. “Apparently it’s our job,” she heard Sam say. She peered into the separated bedroom before pulling back when Sam cleared his throat. “All right, here we go. Um . . . it says your from Texas.”

Alex snorted once again in amusement. “Texas. Haha.”

“Yeah. And, uh . . . Says you were in a soap opera.”

Alex hurried over to see the clip that Sam started playing, and she smiled up at Dean. “You were so cute!” she teased. “Aww. Baby Dean.”

Dean watched for only a few seconds before slamming the laptop closed. “I don’t like this universe, Sammy. We need to get out of this universe.”

“Yeah, no argument there. But I don’t think our, our prayers are reaching Cas. The real Cas.” Sam glanced up at Alex.

The girl shrugged. “Hey. I can’t see my wings _or_ feel my grace. I may look pretty cool on the outside, but I’m literally freaking out right now. If Cas hasn’t heard me, then he’s definitely not heard any of yours.’”

“Well, I agree. We are definitely out of soul-phone range. But . . .” An idea sparked in his mind.

“What?”

“If we can reverse Balthazar’s spell . . . I watched every move.” The hunter pulled a piece of scratch paper close and sketched the sigil. “We just, uh, need to get the ingredients, right, get back to the window, and . . . there’s no place like home.”

“Great.” Alex nodded. “Okay, so . . . where are we going to get a bone of a lesser saint again?” In response, both Sam and Dean glanced at each other then stood up and left the trailer, leaving Alex to hurry after in confusion. “Uh, hello?” She stopped, crossing her arms. “Contrary to popular belief, I don’t speak Winchester!” When neither brother looked back. Alex ran after them. “Dean!”

They walked back onto the set from which they had first come. They entered the study, and Alex hurried over to her desk and picked up her angel blade. It felt strange in her hand, and she twisted it skillfully in her hands. However, it felt clumsy and awkward without her grace, and she dropped her hands to her side. “I fucking hate this.”

“Backbone of a lesser saint.” Sam held up the bone that lay on the desk before frowning. “It’s rubber,” he told them, chucking it at Alex. She let out an undignified squeal as it hit her in the chest.

“Check this out.” Dean held up a small knife and bent the blade backwards. Then he stabbed it into his brother’s chest. Sam initially jumped, frowning when Dean pulled the blade back and stabbed it into his own chest. “It’s fake. It’s all fake!” He stabbed himself a few more times for emphasis.

“This isn’t real either.” Alex tossed the angel blade onto the table. “It’s metal-ish, but that’s about it.” She opened her mouth to expand more, but her phone rang. Confused, Alex stepped away to answer it. “Uh . . . hello?”

“Elaine. You coming?”

“What?” Alex narrowed her eyes in confusion. She was pretty sure it was this Misha fellow.

“Well, hurry up. I have a dinner with the producers at six, and I can’t miss it.”

“Uh . . .” Alex looked over at Dean. “Can I call you back?”

“Come on.” Misha stepped onto the set and hung up the phone, motioning for her to come with him.

“Where are we going?”

“Home.”

Alex looked over at Sam and Dean, who just exchanged looks. “Okay.” She nodded. “Sure.” She followed Misha out of the study with a glance back at Dean. “Help me,” she mouthed. She and Misha walked out of the warehouse, and Alex fell behind, quite a bit wary around the man. He looked like Castiel, but he obviously wasn’t Cas.

“You feeling okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. I, uh, I’m fine.” Alex stopped when she saw what car Misha was getting into. “Dude. You drive a _Prius_?”

“Problem?” Misha paused, glancing at her over the door.

“Well, it’s a Prius . . .”

“Yeah, thanks Dean Winchester.” Misha got in, and Alex followed, shifting uncomfortably on the unfamiliar seats.

 

 **I** t was about a thirty minute drive into — as Alex realized with a jolt — the city of Vancouver. Misha parked the car in an underground parking ramp and led her up an elevator. They stepped out on the forth floor, and Alex trailed after him over to a door. “So, we, uh, live here?” She left the word _together_ unspoken.

“Well, I live here.” Misha unlocked the door and it swung open. “And if this is room 522, then you live here too.”

Alex looked over at the room number. “It’s not,” she confirmed. “I . . . live upstairs.”

“Mm-hmm.” Misha stepped in.

Alex followed, quickly checking her pockets. “I don’t have my, uh, my keys.”

“Spare one’s in the drawer.” Misha disappeared through a door, leaving Alex to look about in confusion. In front of her lay a kitchen, and to its left a large and open living room. Not sure what ‘the drawer’ was, Alex walked into the kitchen and started pawing through the island. There were several keys, none of which were clearly marked. Alex picked up one that had the initials EM, and, remembering that those were in fact _her_ initials, decided this was as close as she was going to get. “Thanks,” she called. The she left.

 

 **O** nce upstairs, Alex paused to look about. It only took a minute before she found room 522 and unlocked the door. The lights were off, and she flicked it on, looking about expectantly. She frowned.

The apartment was much less nice than Misha’s, even though it had almost the exact same set up. A worn couch sat in front of the tv, and a wooden coffee table in the middle. A card table and mismatching chairs sat off to the far left against the wall, surrounded by stacks of boxes. Alex stepped into the bedroom to see a twin-sized bed laying against the far wall. An alarm clock sat on the ground next to it. The closet seemed decently stocked, about three quarters of the way full.

Returning to the kitchen, Alex checked the fridge. She frowned again to see it was mostly empty. A half-full gallon of milk, block of cheddar cheese, and a can of whipped cream. A couple of sandwiches also sat off to the side.

Alex walked over to the couch and sat down at the laptop. It was unlocked and she opened the browser before typing in her pseudonym. Just then her phone rang, and Alex jumped to answer it. “Sam!”

“Hey. Where are you?”

“Uh . . . I’m at this person’s apartment.”

“Anything useful to know about her?”

“I’m looking now.” Alex scrolled through a few pages. “Uh . . . Elaine Malmsten. From Minnesota, was going to study biology before she started working for _Supernatural_. Um . . .” She scrolled a little more before switching to email. “She doens't seem really rich. This place sucks. She doesn’t even have a bed frame. It’s just a mattress on the ground. A lot of people don’t really seem to like her,” Alex added, scrolling through the fanmail. “I, uh, I guess people weren’t a fan of how the whole ‘angel’ thing played out.” A huff of amusement left her lips. “I wasn’t much of a fan about that part either.”

“Hey. Stay focused.”

“Sorry.” Alex closed the laptop with a sigh. “Where are you guys?”

“We’re on our way to my — uh, at Jared’s place.”

Alex looked out the darkened window. “Give me the address and I’ll take a cab.”

Muffled voices in the background. Then, “Don’t bother. We can swing by and pick you up.” She heard Sam turn his attention to someone else. “Hey, uh, Clif. Can we swing by and pick up, uh . . .”

“Elaine,” she heard Dean finished, and Sam repeated her name in confirmation.

“Clif?”

“Our bodyguard, apparently. And chauffeur.”

“Oh. Great. You guys have a chauffeur, and I’m stuck here with wingless.”

“Clif says we can be there in twenty minutes.”

A sigh. “Fine, fine. I’ll just —” Sam hung up, and Alex frowned. “ Wait here.” She tossed her phone onto couch and sank into it with a sigh. There was a knock on the door, and Alex looked to as Cas—er, _Misha_ , entered. He was dressed in jeans and a dark button down and carrying a guitar case.

Seeing her on the couch, he walked over and sat down, a grin on his face. “Hey-a, Pipsqueak.” He set the case down next to her. “You left this at my place. Figured you want it, seeing how much you love to play it.”

“Uh, thanks.” Alex felt her heart twist at the bright smile, but pushed it away. This wasn’t her mate. “Nice shirt. I like it.”

“Well, you can’t have it,” Misha teased. He got up and walked over to the fridge before turning back to her, frowning. “You know you can’t live off of whipped cream and cheese,” he warned. “When’s the last time you’ve actually gone to the grocery store?”

“Yeah, about that.” Alex shifted, tipping her head slightly. “What’s up with this? I mean, there’s a reason I have all this crappy stuff, right?”

Misha’s eyes darkened in confusion. “Listen. If you really need it, I can spot you some money.”

‘What? No, no you don’t need to do that.”

Misha walked back over to her. “Would you just let go of your stupid pride for just one minute? If you need money, you shouldn’t be ashamed of it. You know I’ll help, and I wouldn’t tell anyone.” The couch dipped as he sat.

“Is there . . . a reason I don’t have money?” Alex cocked her head in confusion. “I mean, everyone else seems rich enough. What do I spend it on?”

“Uh, college?” The man looked thoroughly confused, but answered anyways. “You know. Stuff like that.”

“But I still live like this?”

“It’ll look better once you're all moved in. Listen, Elaine.” Misha’s eyes softened. “I know life hasn’t been easy. Especially not now. Things are gonna get better though.”

A hand came to rest on her knee, and Alex looked down in confusion. “I’m fine,” she promised. “Really I am.” She resisted the urge to curl up next to him, to close her eyes and forget about what was happening, once again reminding herself that this wasn’t Castiel. “I’m going over to, uh, uh, Jared’s,” she finally said.

“Oh. Why?”

“Dunno. Food, hopefully.”

“Hmm. Well, dress warm. It’s suppose to get cold.” And with that, Misha stood up and walked towards the door. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Yeah.”

And with that, Misha was gone.

 

 **H** er phone dinged, and Alex looked down to see that a man named “Jared” had texted her. _Downstairs_. Alex jumped to her feet, and, remembering Misha’s warning, disappeared into the bedroom. She flipped through the closet and pulled out a thick grey sweatshirt. It was a size too large, and Alex sniffed it. Smelled like Misha. Huh. But it was warm.

She slipped it on and stepped out, locking the door behind her. She descended a floor and slipped the spare key under Misha’s door before hurrying down and out of the building.

 

 **W** ithin half an hour she was following Sam and Dean out of the dark SUV and up the walkway of a huge mansion. “Wow.” Alex’s mouth fell open in amazement.

“Nice modest digs, Jay-Z,” Dean agreed.

“Wow. I must be the star of this thing.” Sam followed them in, amazement and awe written all across his face.

“My place was like the size of this room alone,” Alex put in, slightly jealous. “How the hell can you afford this?”

“Hey. Check it out.” Dean walked over to a large tanning bed that lay off to the side.

Sam huffed in amusement. “Who am I? Dracula?”

“George Hamilton Dracula,” Dean agreed. He continued his search around the room. “Oh, now we’re talking,” he grinned, stopping by the liquor cabinet. Alex took a second to study the room herself. Comfortable couches, a fireplace, high ceilings; it was nice. She cocked an eyebrow at the pictures that hung on the wall behind her though. “Dude!” Dean excited voice reached her ears. “You’ve got a camel in the backyard.”

“It’s an alpaca, dumbass.” Alex retreated to the middle of the room to look up. A woman stood up on the floor above, looking down at them. Alex froze. She knew that face.

Dean was the first one to speak. “Ruby?”

“ ‘Ruby.’ Right.” The woman descended the stairs and walked over to them. “How was work today, hon?” She leaned up, kissing Sam on the lips. Alex flared her wing— oh wait. If she had wings, they definitely would have flared up. But for now, she settled with a dark frown.

“Wait.” Dean’s voice made Ruby pull away. He looked between her and his brother. “You and _Ruby_?”

The woman turned to Dean, a frown across her face. “Do you honestly think that’s funny, Jensen?”

“Right.” Dean blinked. “Right, cause you’re not Ruby. You . . . I mean, how you could you be?” He let out a forced laugh. “You . . . of course! You’re the lovely actress that plays Ruby. And you are, uh, in . . . Jared’s house because . . .” He looked around before his gaze focused on the mantle behind them. “Married!” he finished, and Alex didn’t miss the surprise that jumped across Sam’s face. Dean looked up at his brother. “You _married_ fake Ruby?”

Fake Ruby’s voice was flat with unamusement. “What are you two doing here?” she asked, glancing over at Alex, who had just been standing there, unblinking.

“Work,” Sam answered quickly. He repeated himself, slower this time. “Work.”

“Yeah, just thought we’d pop in and say ‘hey.’ ” Dean agreed.

“Hey,” Alex added, forcing a smile.

“And, uh — and maybe run some lines,” the older Winchester continued. “It’s . . .”

“You’ve never even been to our house.” Fake Ruby crossed her arms.

“Well, now that I know there’s an alpaca out back, I will definitely be coming back.”

“Well, alpacas _are_ the greenest animals.”

“Right, right.” Dean looked up at his brother for support. “That is so important.”

Fake Ruby turned back to her husband. “Well, there’s that thing I have to get to,” she told him with a small smile.

“Oh yeah, of course,” Sam agreed, but faltered slightly. “The thing.”

The woman frowned. “The international otter adoption charity dinner?”

“Oh.”

“Okay. Well . . .” Fake Ruby leaned up and kissed Sam again. “Well, I’m glad you two are talking again.” She turned to go, smiling down at Alex. “Hi, Elaine,” she said in passing.

“Hi . . . m-ma’am,” Alex stumbled out. She watched her leave the house before turning back to Sam and Dean.

Dean nodded appreciatively. “Well, looks like you did alright.”

“Yeah.” Sam was still staring at where fake Ruby had left. “Yeah.” He shook it off. “I should figure out her name.”

Alex walked over to the mantle, studying the pictures there. She leaned up on her tiptoes, reaching for one of the framed pictures. “You two are really cute,” she said quietly, studying the wedding photo. “Lucky you.” With a sigh, she put it back. “I don’t think this Elaine person has anyone. Not from the state of her place.”

“Yeah, well, not with a face like that,” Dean teased, turning his attention back to sliding glass door, staring out at the alpaca.

“You’re right. Too bad everyone can’t be as good looking as you.” Alex walked over to the other side of the room, relishing in the awkward silence that followed. She and Dean could insult each other all day, but once one of them actually gave out a heart-felt compliment . . . She shook her head, clearing her thoughts. “So. Now what?”

 

 **A** lex threw her head back in frustration. “This is stupid,” she grumbled. “What the fuck is this person hiding?”

“You know,” Dean suggested wryly, “you could be doing something useful instead.” He rubbed his eyes before looking over at Alex. “What are you doing, anyways?”

“Something’s going on with this Elaine Malmsten chick.” Alex scrolled up to the search bar. “And whatever it is, she’s doing a pretty good job of keeping it off the internet.” She looked up, face scrunched in confusion. “I really really want to know. Sam. You should ask your wife.”

“Really?” Sam looked up from his own laptop. “You know, maybe you should be focusing on how to get us back.”

"Something's going on with this Elaine Malmsten chick." Alex scrolled up to the search bar. "And whatever it is, she's doing a pretty good job of keeping it off the internet. I mean, apparently. I'm Celiac. Gluten-free," she added for clarification. "But that's not  _that_  big a deal, right? I mean, it's sucks, but still." She looked up, face scrunched in confusion. "I really really want to know. Sam. You should ask your wife."

“Of course not,” Dean promised. “It . . . just takes a while to warm up to you,” he added, smirking so Alex knew it was a joke.

She huffed, rolling her eyes. “Thanks Winchester.” She turned back to her laptop, frowning when Dean reached over and closed it. “Hey!”

“Let’s focus on getting back, okay? Leave this girl in her misery of whatnot.” After a pause, he added, “So, what do you think? Is this your universe?”

“I don’t know,” Alex admitted. “I-I mean, it kinda looks like it, but there was definitely never an ‘Alex’ in the show. Uh, m-maybe me falling here changed that, I don’t know. Like some sort of timey-wimey thing.” She shrugged. “I’ve, uh . . . I’ve never heard of this ‘Elaine’ character though. So . . .”

Dean grunted. “Huh.”

Alex nodded, waiting for Dean to move his hand before opening back up her computer. “I think all the girls are just jealous of me and Cas,” she finally said as she opened a new search window. “That makes sense. Let’s go with that.” Before either Winchester could answer, she cleared her throat. “So, what am I looking for?”

“Closest place to get lamb’s blood.”

“Great.”

Sam, who had been sitting quietly this whole time, finally spoke up. “ ‘Wrist bone of saint and holy reliquary,’ ” he read. “ ‘Museum quality from diocese in Oaxaca.’ Seems legit.”

“All right. Auction house is in Mexico City. We could be there day after tomorrow. We, uh, case it, yank it, be back here by the end of the week.”

“Or we could just buy it,” Sam suggested, holding up a credit card.

Dean beamed. “Hello Jared Padalecki.”

“So, are we going to _buy_ lamb’s blood?”

“You bet your ass we are.” Dean reached over and took one of Jared’s credit cards. “Start shopping, sister.”

 

 **“D** one.” Alex closed her laptop and tossed the credit card to Dean. “One quart of lamb’s blood to be delivered by tomorrow afternoon.” She glanced over at Sam, who was insistently talking in Spanish on the phone.

“Triple rush,” Dean said, typing in the credit card information. “No problemo. Because money is no —” He stopped with a frown before holding up the card. “This baby’s maxed.”

“Wow.” Sam hung up the phone. “They said it should be at the airport first thing tomorrow.”

“Money, man. There’s nothing like it.” Dean closed his laptop and stood up. “All right. Couch. TV star. Beauty rest.” He flipped over the back of the couch and landed on the cushions out of sight.

Alex glanced at the clock as well. It was almost eleven. “Sleep sounds good,” she agreed. “You think there’s a spare bedroom somewhere around here?” She stood up and walked over to Dean, sitting down on his legs. “Come on,” she urged childishly. “Let’s explore.”

“Go away,” Dean grumbled, not even opening his eyes. He ignored her even as she tugged on his hand insistently.

“Dean,” Alex whined. “I’m tired. I don’t want to sleep alone in this strange house, there’s no room on the couch, and I feel rooming with Sammy while his _wife_ is around could end poorly.”

“Genevieve.”

“What?”

“That’s her name. Genevieve.”

“Uh, okay. Well, either way, please?”

“Fine. You are such a baby” Dean stood up, and Alex helped pull him to his feet. She followed him up the stairs and down the hall, checking every room. “Here.” Dean stepped into a bedroom, and Alex pushed past him, jumping on the bed.

Then she jumped up again. “I’m gonna go find the master bedroom,” she told him. “You need anything? A shirt?”

Dean shrugged. “I’m good.”

“Okie dokie.” Alex hurried down the hall until she came upon the master bedroom. She pulled open a large drawer, pondering which t-shirt to borrow. She finally settled on a black shirt with some sort of celtic design. Then she returned to the spare room, shirt slung over her shoulder.

 

 **T** he door swung open, and Alex groaned, rolling into Dean’s shoulder. She heard someone clear their throat, awkward at first, and she sat up, blinking sleep away. “Uh . . .”

Sam’s ‘wife’ stood there, staring at them, obviously just as shocked and confused. “I’m sorry,” she got out.

At this point, Dean had woken up, and he sat up as well, stifling a yawn. “Oh. Uh . . . hey.” He shot her a sleepy smile. “What’s up?”

“I thought I should wake you.” Gen looked between Alex and Dean, obvious disbelief and shock in her eyes. “You have to be on set in two hours. I . . .” She shook her head. “Sorry. I just — I won’t tell Daneel.”

Dean looked confused for a second, and Alex tipped her head towards him. “I think that’s your wife,” she whispered.

“What?”

“Well, she’s certainly not _my_ wife.”

“No, uh, yeah, I know,” Dean shakily recovered. “I just — It’s not what it looks like, you know? Al—Elaine had a hard time falling asleep. She came in in the middle of the night.”

“Yeah.” Alex swallowed back a frown. She dropped her gaze. “I’m fine though.”

“Oh.” To her surprise, Genevieve just nodded. “I get it,” she said, voice suddenly soft with understanding — with understand to _what_ Alex was still confused. “I’m sure there’s nothing going on. I was just surprised.” And with that, she left the room.

“Yeah.” Dean threw back the covers and got up, and Alex reluctantly followed, bare feet chilled on the wooden floors.

She trailed down the stairs and after Genevieve into the kitchen where Sam was already sitting in front of a bowl of cereal. Alex joined him, then frowned. “That’s disgusting cereal,” she reprimanded, getting back to her feet.

“I think it’s pretty good.”

“You’re a disgusting person, _Jared Padalecki_ ,” the girl called over her shoulder as she entered the pantry. She rifled through the rows of food before pulling free a box of Lucky Charms. When she stepped back into the kitchen she stopped. “Uh . . .”

Genevieve was standing there, an unreadable expression on her face. “Where did you get that shirt?”

“Uh, your guys’ closet?” Alex looked down at the large t-shirt that reached almost to her knees. “I didn’t have anything to sleep in, so . . .”

“It’s fine, Gen,” Sam added as he took another bite. “Seriously.”

“Okay.” Genevieve walked over to Sam and kissed him briefly. “I should be going. Have a good day, hon.” She left the room.

Alex slid into her seat next to Sam just as he stood up. “Come on. We should be going.”

“What?”

“Our stuff’s gonna be at the airport in forty minutes.” Sam took away the cereal she had grabbed and put it back in the pantry. “Clif’s outside.”

“ _Sam_. I’m hungry.”

“We’ll get something on the way back.”

 

 **F** orty minutes later, Alex sat in the front seat of Clif’s black SUV. Dean was in the backseat, and Sam was hurrying back towards the car, a package in his hands. Alex’s attention was solely focused on the planes around them.

“So, I don’t mean to pry,” Clif began, “but, uh, why are we picking up packages at 8 am that haven’t cleared customs yet?”

“Just saving time,” Dean promised. Sam slid into the backseat beside Dean, placing the package in the middle of the seat, and the Winchester grinned. “Alright. Here we go.”

“We’re not doing anything illegal, are we?”

A small pause. “Would it make you feel any better if we said no?”

“No.” Clif started the car, and they drove away.

 

 **T** he minute they got to the set all three hurried into the fake Bobby’s study. Sam put the package down on the desk. “Lesser saint bone. Lamb’s blood’s inside too, I think.”

Dean opened his bag and pulled out a box of the dead sea brine that had arrived before they had left Jared’s house. He put it on the desk when the lights turned on. “Whoa. What?” Dean looked up in surprise.

The director from yesterday stepped onto the set. “We’ll finish today in twelve hours if it kills us,” he told the other crew members. “Get A and B cam for scene 12.” Seeing the three of them, his eyebrows raised in surprise. “Here for the first run-through before anyone else? Dedication.”

“Uh, can I talk to you for a sec?” Dean stepped closer to the director, leaving Sam and Alex to quickly shove the thing of salt into the box with the other ingredients. “Um,” Dean continued, “we’re gonna need the set cleared for, uh, safe side — an hour or so.”

“You need it cleared,” Alex heard the director repeat, disbelief lining his voice.

“Yeah. Yeah.” Dean nodded in agreement. “Me and, uh, them are gonna do some actor stuff.”

“Jensen, we’re thrilled to see you collaborating so creatively. And your enthusiasm is refreshing. Dean Cain was like that on ‘Lois,’ and that man’s a real actor. And we will clear this set exactly when we shoot the two and three-eight pages we are scheduled to shoot on this set. So you do your ‘actor’ stuff and we’ll do our ‘camera’ stuff, and . . .” He ended in a shrug.

Dean nodded and walked off set, shoulders fallen slightly in defeat. Alex and Sam followed, Sam carrying the package under his arm. He set it on the chair next to him as he sat down.

Misha looked up from his phone curiously. “Ooh. ‘Priority,’ ” he read. “What’s in it?”

“I bought part of a dead person.”

“Oh.” Misha fell back into his seat, obviously slightly unnerved. Alex sat in her designated chair beside him, shifting uncomfortably in the seat.

Dean returned to them, a frown on his face. “So, uh, bad news. Looks like we’re gonna have to do a little acting.”

“What?” Both Sam and Alex looked up in confusion. “Acting?” Alex repeated. “Uh, no.”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Everyone on set!” the director called. Misha stood up and walked onto set, mindlessly straightening the lapels of his coat. Sam and Dean followed, and Alex awkwardly did so as well, picking up the pages of the script Misha had been studying.

“Elaine.” A hand on her shoulder guided her over to the couch. “That’s your mark.”

Alex stared down at the ‘x’ on the floor with a nod. “Yeah. Sure.”

 

 **S** am and Dean were terrible actors. They might be able to lie to the cops and pass themselves off as Feds, but give them designated lines to deliver, and it was a nightmare. At one point Alex lay down on the couch, staring up at the ceiling as the director yelled “Cut!” for the ninth time. She didn’t miss the way Misha looked back at the director either.

“Action!” another yelled, and then they were off again.

Sam cleared his throat. “If there’s a key,” he awkwardly began, both arms held out in front of him, “there there has to be a lock. And when we find the lock, we can get the weapons, and then we can have the weapons.” Alex looked at the script in her hand. That wasn’t in there. But Sam kept going. “And the lock. We’ll still have the lock, I imagine, because we’ve opened it, and of course, the initial key —”

Alex rolled off the couch and landed with a thud. “Ow,” she groaned, too bored to get back up. Quite bored, she stood up and walked straight off the set. “Done with this shit, “ she muttered as she left.

“Cut!” Something hit the ground, and Alex figured the crew was finally getting fed up with them.

“Do-Do we really need all these lines?” Dean asked, dropping the script. “I mean, I-I-I think we got it covered, right?”

“Who wrote this?” Sam added, staring down at the script in disbelief. “Nobody uses the word ‘penultimate!’ ”

“Moving on!” the assistant director yelled. Alex was pretty sure his name was Kevin. She stopped by the large food table, filled with a various array of foods. She vaguely heard Dean exclaim, “Thank God,” as she reached for what looked to be a delicious Philly-steak sandwich.

“Elaine!” Suddenly Misha was at her side. He grabbed the food out of her hands, ignoring how she protested. “The hell are you trying to do?”

“Uh, have lunch?” Alex pointedly reached for her sandwich.

“You know you can’t eat that.” The actor put the food back down, crossing his arms. “Seriously. Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

“Death by sandwich. You know, not a bad way to go.” Alex once more reached for the sandwich that she truly deserved, huffing in annoyance when Misha slapped her hand away. “Okay, seriously dude? What the fuck.”

“You can’t eat gluten, remember asshat?” Misha half led, half dragged her away from that side of the food table. “Or were you just looking for more pain, huh?”

“More pain? I don’t even know where this original fucking pain came from!” Alex crossed her arms, the long and annoying morning finally catching up. “Seriously. I don’t know what’s going on, but _I am fine_. I can handle my shit, okay? I don't need a fucking babysitter.”

“Well, you obviously do. What’s up with you lately? You’ve been distancing yourself from me. And now you’re hanging out with the Js?”

Alex snorted. “Jealous?”

“I’m just saying that I’m worried for you. You know you can talk to me because I get it. I know what you’re going through. Just . . . stop pushing me away.”

Alex stared into his eyes, then finally gave up. She nodded, lying through her teeth. “Yeah, uh, yeah. Sure thing . . . Mish.” She let a long, despondent sigh fall from her lips, and she dropped her gaze to her shoes. “I’m sorry. I . . . I’ve been going through kinda a rough time. Jen—uh, Jared’s been a lot of help lately.” Not wanting any more questions, she ducked her head in apology and hurried off.

Misha returned to his chair, whipping out his phone, and Alex joined the brothers on set. "So apparently this person is Celiac," she told them. "No wonder her life sucks. No sandwiches, no pizza. No doughnuts? That's insane."

Sam and Dean exchanged looks. “Let’s get this show on the road,” the eldest Winchester mumbled, retrieving the wooden bowl. He poured the dead sea brine and the lamb’s blood in while Sam crushed the bone in his hand. Alex kept watch, making sure no one came and interrupted them.

Dean hurried over to the large window, bowl in hand, and began drawing the sigil. “There.” He dropped the bowl onto the desk and took a few steps back. “Ready?”

“You sure this’ll work?” Alex asked quietly.

“No.” And with that, both Sam and Dean ran towards the window. Alex followed, launching herself into the air after them. There was a large shatter of glass, and then she was falling.

She hit the concrete floor with a pained grunt. She heard Sam and Dean breathing beside her, and she went to move her wings. Nope. No wings.

“Drugs,” she heard a man say, and she reluctantly looked up.

Then she let her head fall back down. “Still here,” she muttered, rolling onto her back. “We’re still here.”

 

 **“M** aybe we did it wrong.”

Alex grunted, rubbing her aching shoulder. “No shit, Sherlock.” They were back in Jensen’s trailer, trying to figure out what to do next.

A hand came down over her head, and she groaned. “Watch it,” Dean growled. He sat down beside his brother. “That spell was perfect,” he argued. “It should have worked.”

“What if it can’t?” Sam spun the laptop he was on so Dean could see. “Look, I was up all night looking online. There’s no sign that anything like the apocalypse ever happened. Ever. And as far as I can tell, monsters, ghosts, demons — they’re all pretend.”

“So nobody’s hunting them?”

“No hunters,” Sam confirmed.

Alex grimaced as she touched a tender spot. “Looks like we’re out of a job.”

Dean grunted in agreement, and Sam continued. “Look, maybe that’s why our spell didn’t work, Dean, you know? Maybe here, there’s no supernatural, no magic.”

“No demons, no heaven, no hell, no-no God?”

“Something like that. Even better? No angels.”

“We don’t know that,” Alex defended, still cross from the morning. “All we know is there’s no magic like what we have. You can’t exactly jump ahead and say there’s no God.”

“That’s beside the point.” Sam closed the laptop. “We’re pretty much stuck here.”

“There has to be a way back. Cas wouldn’t just leave us here.”

“Balthazar’s the one who did this, in case you haven’t noticed,” Dean grumbled. “And I wouldn’t put it past him.”

Alex frowned. “He wouldn’t just leave us here,” she insisted weakly. “That’s not like him.” A long pause of silence, and then she sighed. “Well, whatever we’re looking for, it’s probably on set. That’s were we came from, and that’s probably how we’re gonna get back.”

“Yeah.” Dean stood up with a nod. “Well, come on. The sooner we find a way back the sooner we . . .” He faltered for a few seconds, “find a way back,” he finally finished.

“Good job, Dean.” Alex followed Dean back out of his trailer and into the warehouse. They walked past the Singer house set and the panic room.

“Samster." Alex tugged on the Winchester's shirt. "Did you figure out what's up with me? Uh, alias-me?"

Sam hesitated. "Uh, yeah."

After a pause Alex prompted, "And? What? Am I dying or something?"

"No. Gen said one of your best friends -- Travis something -- killed himself. He shot himself right in front of you."

Alex's eyes narrowed in sympathy. "That explains why everyone's been so weird," she admitted. "Dude. That . . . that sucks." She paused, ready to expand on her point, but at moment she spotted a large green screen with an Impala sitting in front of it. There were two men working on a fight choreography in front of it, and Alex watched, quite interested.

“Okay,” Dean finally said, changing the topic at hand. “Maybe we can’t get out of, uh, you know, Earth number two right now, but the least we can do is get the hell out of the Canadian part of it.”

“Yeah,” Sam agreed.

“If I hear one more conversation about hockey, I’m gonna puke.”

Alex grunted in agreement, glancing to her right where another set lay. It was dark, and Alex immediately recognized it, moving past Dean to hurry inside. “Dude.” She grinned back at Sam and Dean. “I’m pretty sure this is the sewer from Oregon. With the dragons?”

Dean followed her up onto it. “Yeah,” he confirmed. “Looks like it.”

“At least it doesn’t smell,” she added, taking a few steps back and gesturing to the whole set with both arms.

Suddenly Sam’s face went pale. “Alex!”

She spun around to see Virgil, and she froze. The angel reached out with his hand. “You really think you can run?” he growled, placing his palm over her forehead. Alex flinched, expecting a rush of grace, but nothing came.

“Sorry, dude.” Dean took a menacing step forward. “Mojo-free zone.” Then he rushed forward. At the same time Alex wrapped her arms around Virgil’s thighs, pulling up on his left leg and driving him backwards. The angel stumbled and fell, Alex on top of him. She scrambled off, and Dean grabbed the angel by the shirt, punching him in the face.

The — wingless — angel kicked Dean in the stomach, throwing the hunter back against the metal railing. He scrambled to his feet, watching as the hunters stalked forward. “No magic in the house,” Dean spat. “Which makes you nothing more than a dick.” He threw another punch.

Virgil deflected it, sending Dean flying backwards. Sam and Alex moved forward. Alex slid off to the right of the angel, and Sam to the left, dividing his attention. Alex punched him in the stomach, and the angel blocked it, punching her in the jaw and sending her stumbling. However, in that brief moment of distraction Sam was able to wrap his arms around Virgil’s, pinning his arms to his back. The angel struggled as Dean punched him in the stomach, then in the face, over and over again.

“Hey!”

“Not good, not good!” She heard another guy yell.

She turned to see several of the crew members rushing towards them. She held out her hands, trying to keep them away. “No,” she yelled. “You don’t understand!” Hands wrapped around her waist, dragging her back.

“No no no!” Sam yelled as Virgil was pried away from him. “Stop! You don’t understand! No!”

“You’re dead, Virgil!” Dean yelled, struggling against his captors. “I’m gonna break your fucking neck!” He glared after the angel who fled, glancing back only once.

Alex threw her elbow into the stomach of the man holding her, spinning around to glare up at him. “What the hell?” she snapped.

“Alex!” Dean was still struggling to be free. “Get after that son of a bitch!”

At those words, hands reached for her again, but Alex slipped past. She ducked past Dean and took off down the set. Footsteps followed, and she ran faster until she emerged from the end of the tunnel. She looked around, then huffed in anger. She couldn’t see him. Hands wrapped around her waist, and the girl let out a indignant cry as she was lifted up and slung over a crewman’s shoulder. “Let me go, you ass,” she hissed, bringing her fist down on his back. She was dropped beside the Winchesters with a sullen huff.

“What the hell was that?” the stunt director snapped. “Beating up an extra?”

Sam squared his jaw, and without another word, the Winchesters stalked away. Alex followed, shoulders rolling as she instinctively tried to flare out her wings. “So now Virgil’s through,” she growled when they were out of earshot. “Great. We have to deal with _him_ on top of everything.”

“And we still don’t have a way back,” Sam added.

“I don’t know. I mean, Virgil broke through. Maybe he’s got a way back.”

“Or now he has no juice here, and now he’s stuck like us.”

“Yeah, either way, I want to finish kicking his ass.” Dean paused by a row of doors. “Hey.” He moved off down the row, stopping beside a broken window. Glass lay by the hunter’s feet, and Alex hurried over to him to peer through the window. It was a motel room, one they had stayed in before, but the girl couldn’t place it.

“You think this is where Virgil crossed over?”

“Yeah. Looks like it.” Dean’s face twisted into a dark frown. “We need to find him.” He turned around and stalked off towards the Singer set.

Alex followed close behind, a similar frown on her face. “If Virgil doesn’t want to be found, he isn’t going to be found,” she warned. “I don’t know much about him, but what I do know is that this mofo is the Weapons Keeper of Heaven. Well trained in combat with all sorts of shit.”

“Well, that’s good to know.”

“There you guys are!” The director’s voice reached Alex’s ears, and she frowned, turning to see him sitting at Bobby’s desk, arms crossed.

Sam cleared his throat. “Actually, we’re uh, we’re looking for —”

“For that extra you tried to kill?” the man finished, raising an eyebrow. He stood up. “So is it money? Is this the kind of act that goes away if we scare up some coverage on a raise?”

“More money?” Dean scoffed. “You already pay these jokers enough as it is.”

“Except me,” Alex put in crossly. “I could do with some more.” Sam elbowed her, and she crossed her arms.

“You know, I like to think that over these years, we’ve grown closer. That you don’t think of me as ‘director Bob’ or ‘executive producer Bob Singer,’ but as ‘Uncle Bob.’ ”

“Wait. You’re kidding.” Sam stepped closer. “So the character in the show, Bobby Singer —”

“What kind of douchebag names a character after himself?” Alex snapped. She ignored the glaring frown director Bob Singer shot at her.

“That’s not right,” Dean agreed.

“Okay, guys, let’s begin again.”

The Winchesters however, had had enough. Dean turned to look at Sam. “You know, I don’t think Virgil would have shagged out of here without getting his mitts on that key.”

“Yeah, yeah. I agree.”

“Guys . . .” Bob Singer insisted, “you can’t come to work on poppers and smuggle kidneys from Mexico and make up your own lines as you go! You cannot make up your own lines! Good God, what about your careers?”

“You know what?” Sam snapped. “Screw our careers.”

“What?!”

“You heard my brother,” Dean added. “That’s right, I said brother. Cause you know what, Bob? We’re not actors. We’re hunters. We’re the Winchesters. Always have been, always will be. And where we’re from, people don’t know who we are. But you know what? We mattered in that world. In fact, we even saved the son of a bitch once or twice. And yeah, okay, here maybe there’s some—some fans who give a crap about this nonsense—”

“I wouldn’t call it _nonsense_ —”

“But, Bob Singer — if that even is your real name — tell me this. What does it all mean?”

A slight pause as director Bob Singer processed what had been said. “Okay,” he finally nodded, “this is good. I mean, we’ve all had our psychotic breaks, right? I can work with this.”

“Dean.” Sam urgently shook his brother’s shoulder, and Alex turned to see what was wrong. “I think Virgil has the key,” the hunter insisted.

“We quit.” And with that, Dean led the way off set, Sam close on his heels.

“What?” Distressed filled the director’s voice, and Alex managed to feel somewhat bad.

“I’ll talk to them,” she lied. Then she hurried off after the Winchesters.

 

 **I** t was late when Clif dropped the three of them off at Jared’s mansion. The whole ride home the Winchesters had been discussing the various ways to track down Virgil, and apparently the conversation was going to continue into the house. “If we get into the police dispatch system,” Sam suggested.

“We could put out an APB on Virgil,” Dean finished with a nod. “Might work if he stays obvious.”

“Not like we have time.”

Alex grunted in agreement as she kicked off her shoes. They rounded the corner when —

“Oh my God, oh my God!” Genevieve ran out into the hallway, trembling with shock. Tears streamed down her face, and panic stirred in Alex’s gut.

“What?” Sam sounded just as concerned.

“Misha’s dead!” A sob shook the woman’s body, and Alex felt her heart skip a beat. _Misha. Dead._ Ice cold panic shot up her spine, and she took a step back.

The Winchesters looked at each other. “Where?”

“Where?” Genevieve stared at them, her confused demeanor interrupted as another sob caught in her throat.

Dean turned around and moved back down the hall. “Come on.” His arm caught around Alex’s chest as he tugged her backwards. The ex-angel numbly followed. “Alex.” Dean’s hand roughly shook her shoulder. “Snap out of it.”

Alex pulled on her shoes and followed the Winchesters into the garage, sliding into the backseat of the car. “S-Sorry.”

 

 **I** t wasn’t hard to find the crime scene. Police cars lined the street, blue and red lights flashing. Alex ducked under the police tape, desperately trying to ignore the sheet-covered body that lay in the alley. She quickened her step to catch up with the Winchesters.

At the far end of the alley a police officer was talking to a man. A quick glance made Alex pretty confident he was homeless. And the only witness. “Yeah, yeah, Raphael,” he was saying. “Like the ninja turtle. He was calling someone name of Raphael up in heaven.”

Dean and Sam exchanged looks and then approached. “Excuse me.” Dean cleared his throat as the police officer walked away. “Did, uh, did you say Raphael?”

The man nodded insistently “Yeah, yeah. That’s right. The — the scary man killed the attractive crying man, and then he started to pray. And the strange part —” he lowered his voice. “After a while I swear I heard this voice answering.”

“What did it say?” Sam queried.

“Well, it didn’t make any sense . . .”

“Try us.”

A small pause. “The voice said for Virgil to ‘return tomorrow’ at the place where he crossed over ‘at the time of the crossing,’ and Raphael would ‘reach through the window and take him and the key home.’ ” The man ended with a small shrug, not sure what all of it meant.

Sam and Dean looked at each other, face grim. “Uh, okay,” Dean finally said. He reached into his wallet and pulled out a few Canadian bills. “Hey. Thank you.”

The homeless man nodded and hurried away.

“Dean, if Virgil gets back with that key, Cas is dead, and our world is toast.”

Dean grunted in grim agreement with his brother’s statement. “Well, then we stop him. I mean, how bad could an angel with no wings be?”

Alex barely heard him. Her attention had turned back to the body. Blood stained the sheets, and her stomach twisted. She knew what it looked like under there; but she still instinctively checked the ground for the remnants of angel wings. It wasn’t Cas. But it felt like it was Cas.

“Hey.” The girl jumped when there was a hand on her shoulder. “Come on.” Dean led her back to the car, and Alex numbly slid into the backseat. “You okay?” Dean got in behind the wheel, worriedly glancing back at her. When Alex didn’t respond, he glanced at Sam before turning around in his seat. “Hey. Look at me.” He waited patiently until Alex’s gaze flickered up to his. “That ain’t Cas, okay? I, I mean, it looks like him, but it isn’t.”

“I know.” Alex listened as the car growled to life. “But — but still. I mean, that’s all I could think about. What . . .” She hesitated for several seconds. “What if that means something, Misha dying here. I mean, t-that pretty much means Cas is dead in the show, right? And if they’re basically the same thing . . .” She trailed off, grief tightening her chest. “What if Cas is dead?”

Dean sighed, gaze dropping down to the floor of the car before returning to Alex. “Then there’s nothing we can do about it. The most we can do is get back.”

 

 **T** hey drove back to Jared’s place, and from there Alex went to bed, leaving the two Winchesters to discuss tomorrow’s plans. She crawled into the cold bed and curled up around the pillow that still faintly smelled of Dean.

 

 **S** he woke up alone. Alex rolled over, groaning to find that the bed was still a little warm. She had just missed Dean. The ex-angel threw back the covers and reluctantly made her way downstairs to find Sam and Dean in the kitchen. They half-heartedly greeted her, and she mumbled something back before sliding into a chair beside Dean. “So?”

“Well, we know the place of the crossing, and the approximate time,” Sam started, “so really the only question is how.”

“I mean, we can’t just jump through,” Dean agreed. “I mean, that’d just put us in Virgil’s reach.”

“So we get to Virgil before he gets back. Take the key, clear out.”

“Then wait for B to pull us back,” Alex finished with a nod. “Yeah, okay. That makes sense.” She looked around. “So we’re leaving . . ?”

“In a while. Virgil didn’t ‘cross over’ until, what? Mid afternoon or so? We have a few hours to prepare.”

 

 **A** lex didn’t actually do any preparing, and, three hours later, found herself pushing her way into the large warehouse with most of the sets. As they made their way in, Alex was starting to notice that people were definitely avoiding her. She frowned, but attributed it to the fact that Misha had just died. Apparently she and him had been pretty close.

They wandered around for a few minutes until they eventually made their way through Bobby’s study. Alex stopped by the desk, wistfully picking up the fake angel blade. “I wish I had my wings back,” she murmured to herself, twirling the blade in her small hands. “Don’t think I like being human.”

“You know that if we drop Virgil, get the key, then this might be it.” Dean broke silence. “We might be stuck here.”

“No, we’ll figure a way back.”

“And you're sure you want to come?" Dean looked down at Alex.

The girl blinked in confusion. “What? W-Why wouldn’t I come with?”

“Well, you know.” Dean stopped walking, and the other two paused as well. “If this is where you’re from, wouldn’t you want to, I don’t know, go home?”

“Go home?” Alex reached up, running a hand through her hair. “Dean, I . . . I don't have a home here. I, I mean, even if this is my universe, the only thing here for me is a dead mom, an abusive foster family, and twenty dollars to my name.”

“Yeah, but what about all of this?” Dean motioned to the set around them. “I mean, real you or not, it’s not bad.”

“Yeah, well, if Alex in our universe goes, me here’s not going to keep my job for much longer.” She chuckled slightly before stilling. “I don’t know. I-I mean, my life here sucks. And back home — I have a mate, Dean. I was an angel. Here . . . I’m nothing. At least there I'm someone.”

“I thought you didn’t like being an angel.”

“Yeah, well, ‘absence makes the heart grow fonder.’ ”

Dean looked over at Sam, who nodded, and his gaze hardened. “All right then. Let’s get our crazy show back home.”

“Sounds good to —” Alex was cut off at the sound of gunfire. “Oh shit.” She looked over at Dean. “That . . .”

The Winchesters exchanged looks and then took off. Alex followed closer behind, shorter legs making her work harder to keep up. Suddenly the brothers split up, and a flick of Dean’s hand had her following after him. She slid to a stop to see Virgil in front of them, rifle in hand. She heard footsteps off to the side as Sam kept moving.

“Hey!” Sam’s loud yell had the angel turning around, guns blazing. Dean rushed forward, tackling the angel and knocking the gun out of his hands. Alex followed, unsure what to do as Dean and Virgil crashed thorough a plywood wall.

Virgil was on his feet first, throwing a punch straight at Dean. Alex rushed forward to intercept, fist connecting with his side. A door opened and Sam rushed through. Alex was knocked backwards, and she stumbled. Her knees hit the side of a bed and she fell down onto it. Dean joined in the fight, and she took only a second to realize where they were before jumping back to her feet.

A punch from Sam knocked Virgil to the ground, and Dean wrapped his hands around he angel’s throat, holding him down as Sam searched the body. “Dean, got it!” Sam triumphantly held up the key.

Alex, however, was staring at something else. “Guys . . .” she warned. “We need to run!” The window was glowing read with the sigil Balthazar had used to get them here, and her feet took her several steps back.

It wasn’t far enough. Something grabbed onto the back of her jacket, and she was flying backwards. She vaguely heard the sound of glass shattering before she hit the ground with a loud thud.

Grunts came from beside her, and Alex struggled to her hands and knees, focusing on her breathing. Her shoulders tensed, and feathers brushed her legs. Alex’s eyes closed in relief at the feeling and stretched her wings out behind her.

“You three have the strangest luck.” An unfamiliar voice. Alex looked up and scrambled to her feet, eyes wide. She knew those wings anywhere. Glossy black feathers with a wingspan so large the tips dragged on the ground.

“Raphael?” Dean guessed, getting up as well. “Nice meatsuit. Dude looks like a lady,” he muttered to Sam and Alex under her breath.

The archangel obviously didn't find _Aerosmith_ funny. She held up a closed fist, and grace pulsed into Alex, strong and unrelenting. Then there was pain, and the female angel doubled over, wings curling around her to fruitlessly offer protection. The pain increased, and she fell to the ground, curling up. The groans and gasps from the Winchesters told her of their similar predicament.

“The key.” Raphael strolled forward and picked it up from where it lay by Sam’s head.

There was a flutter of wings, and then a familiar voice. “And that will open you a locker at the Albany bus station.”

The pain disappeared, and Alex uncurled just enough to see Balthazar standing several feet off, wings pressed loosely against his back.

The archangel cocked an eyebrow in disbelief. “Really.”

“You see, I needed a modest decoy to make it more convincing.”

“Give me the weapons.” Raphael’s wings flared up, and he took a step closer.

Balthazar’s dark amber wings raised slightly in defiance, and he held his ground. “Sorry, darling. They’re gone.”

“What?”

“I said too. bloody. late. You see, they were so well hidden that I needed time to find them. So I volunteered these three marmosets for a game of fetch with Virgil.” His wing flickered out in the direction of Sam and Dean, who were already back on their feet. Alex followed, defensively positioning herself closer to Sam. Balthazar turned his attention to them. “You were such an adequate stick. Thank you boys. And, Alex . . . well, you understand.”

Alex’s feathers ruffled in annoyance, but she held her tongue.

The archangel let out a growl. “You’ve made your last mistake.”

“Oh, I got a few more up my sleeve, honey.”

Raphael’s large wings flared out high and wide in anger, arching high over his head, blocking out the sky. He stalked forward, and Balthazar took an unsure step back, wings pulled down in defense.

“Step away from him, Raphael.” Alex’s wings fell flat at the sound of Castiel’s voice, and the only thought in her mind was that he was _alive_. “I have the weapons now. Their power is with me.” Lightning flashed, sending tingles up Alex’s spine, and grace enveloped Castiel’s wings as he raised them above his head in a challenge of dominance. She felt his grace pulse out, stronger than it had ever been, and she suppressed a shiver.

“Castiel.” Raphael spit out the seraphim’s name.

Castiel’s voice remained as cold as ice as he stalked forward. “If you don’t want to die tonight, back off.”

Raphael hesitated for a second. Then his powerful wings thrust downwards, and he was gone. Alex glanced over to see Balthazar grinning, arms crossed in amusement. He casually strolled over to Castiel, and his face grew serious. “Well, Cas. Now that you have the sword, try not to die by it.”

There was a moment of silence as the two angels stared at each other, and then Balthazar nodded ever so slightly. He turned to look at Alex, and his wings flared up then thrust down. Then the world was spinning.

They landed in Alex’s room. She stepped away from Balthazar, who crossed his arms, watching her carefully. “Your mate’s got the other two,” he put in. Alex felt his grace flick out before he added, “Downstairs, actually.”

“Huh.” Alex moved towards the door before hesitating. “So Cas . . .”

“In on it? Yeah.”

“And . . . was Raphael really trying to kill us?”

Balthazar shrugged, stepping closer. “I’m sure he wouldn’t have minded taking down the Winchesters. But no. He wasn’t, per say, after the three of you specifically.”

“Just the key.” Alex frowned, opening the door.

She heard the slight ruffling of wings, and she glanced back at Balthazar, who had moved forward. “Alex. Don’t be pissed like that, sweetheart. What would you have preferred me to do? Leave the three of you to Virgil’s mercy? Let Raphael focus even more of his attention on your mate?”

“You should have told us. Or at least told me.”

“Mm. No, you see, I had to make in convincing. And keeping the three of you in the dark was the best way to do that.”

“So . . . so was that actually . . . you know, my universe?”

The angel shrugged his shoulder. "I have no idea," he admitted. "It could've been your universe. Could've been a coincidence. I don't know how the spell works, I just know that it does."

Alex stepped out into the hall, grace pulsing outwards as she ignored the angel behind her. “Cas?” she called softly. “Castiel?”

“Don’t call for him.” Suddenly Balthazar was landing in front of her, feet touching gracefully down onto the wooden floor as his wings pulled in tight. “We’re at a turning point in the war, Alex. He has to hit Raphael hard. Now. You have him wrapped around your little finger, so the less distracted he gets by you the better.” His words were harsh, but there was a soft undertone to his voice, a tone Alex had only heard when he to her. Then the angel was gone, and Alex was alone.


	13. Had Enough

**A** week passed, then two. For all of their hard work, they still had little to show. Bobby was still working on the old skin-bound book, and Alex and Sam did their best to help. A snowstorm had kept the Winchesters locked up with Bobby and Alex for several days, and the roads had only just been cleared enough to drive.

“Hey.” Dean’s voice stirred Alex out of her thoughts, and she looked up from where she was curled up in the comfiest chair in the third-floor library. “Sam and I think we found a case, if you’re up for it.”

Alex closed her book, but refused to throw off her blanket quite yet. “Depends. What’d you find? More importantly, where?”

“Ironton, Ohio. Four missing persons, all age seventeen. Bobby just got a call in from one of the local officers.”

“Huh.” Reluctantly, the young angel discarded her blanket and stood up. “So I take it the officer knows Bobby personally.”

“Old friend, he said.” Dean led the way back down the stairs, and Alex followed. “We’re heading out in twenty minutes, if you’re interested.”

“Yeah.” Alex stopped by her room. “I’ll get packed. Meet you down there in ten?”

“Sure.”

 

**December 12th, 2011**

**Ironton, Ohio**

**T** en hours later Alex found herself sitting a briefing room in the Ironton City Police Department beside Dean. Case files were laying in various states of array around them, and Alex mindlessly flipping through one belonging to a certain Jonathan Browning. Seventeen years old, missing for five days.

“So this just started up a week or two back?” Dean was leaning back in his chair, attention focused on a pretty brunette officer.

She nodded curtly, arms crossed and shoulder leaning against the doorframe. “Started with Joseph Miller. I only gave Singer a call after the fourth one vanished without a fucking trace.” She ran a hand through her long hair. “Fuck. I better not lose my job over this.”

“Yeah, well, that’s why we’re here to help, uh, Debra, right?”

“Deb’s fine.” The thin woman walked into the room and plopped down in a chair beside Dean.

“This is the last one, right?” Alex vaguely motioned to the folder in front of her. It was by far the least expansive, and the date read only this morning, so her question was really more rhetorical than anything.

“Yeah. His mom said he didn’t come home this morning. She only called only a few hours back. Usually we don’t count them as missing persons until 48 hours after, but considering the circumstances . . .”

“Huh.” Alex slid the folder over to Dean, who accepted it without a word. “You, uh, don’t mind if we take copies of them, right?”

“I guess. Yeah. I’ll go make copies.” The officer swept up all of the folders and hurried out of the room.

Alex waited until the door closed before turning back to Dean. “So is this really our thing?” she finally asked. “I mean, monsters are one thing. But missing teens is kinda a whole other ballpark, you know?”

“And we’ve got nothing to go on.” Alex’s phone rang, and she dug it out of her pocket. “Maybe Sam’s found something. Hey.” She answered it, leaning forward on her elbows. “Find anything?”

“If four freaked out moms is anything, yeah, I’ve found a lot.”

Alex brushed off Sam’s frustrated tone. “Well, I got a fifth one for you. A Jonathan Browning. Uh . . .” She reached over and pulled a white piece of paper close, one with all of the names and contact info of the missing. “2409 south 8th Street.” Sam grunted, and Alex let out a chuckle. “Sorry, man. One more house, and then we’ll meet you that one place. City Grill, right? It’s just down the street from here.”

“Yeah. Whatever.” Sam hung up, and Alex tossed her phone onto the table.

Dean, who now had both of his feet up on the table, was watching her with a cocked eyebrow. Alex snorted in amusement. “What?”

“Nothing. It’s just Sam called you. Not me.” Dean swung his feet back onto the floor and leaned forward, mimicking Alex. “Is it just me, or has he been doing that a lot?”

Alex reached out and pushed his face away playfully. “You need to shut up,” she warned, pocketing her phone. “Can you really blame him? I mean, it beats talking to you —” She cut off when the officer walked back into the room.

“Here.” She dropped the folders onto the desk. “Knock yourself out.”

 

 **T** he next ten minutes found Alex sitting in a booth across from Dean, folders stacked neatly beside her left arm. They were still waiting on Sam, and the conversation had died to almost nothing. Alex slid her phone back and forth across the table, mindlessly staring out the window. “You think Cas is okay?” she suddenly asked. “I haven’t seen him since that night with Raphael.”

Dean shrugged. “I dunno. I mean, he has the weapons, right? And Raphael seemed pretty damn scared.”

“Yeah.” Alex sighed, swinging her head over to look at the Winchester. “I just wish he’d answer my damn calls, you know?” She turned her attention back to the window, then suddenly knocked on the glass. “Sam!”

The tall hunter turned at the sound, squinting in confusion until he recognized her. A few seconds later he walked into the grill and sat down next to Dean. “Hey, Pip.”

“Hey.” Alex gently kicked him under the table in meeting. “How’d it go.”

The look in Sam’s eyes said it all. “Well, after they uh, finished crying and telling me their kids was innocent or something, I found nothing.”

“Great.” Alex slid a menu over to him. “Well, order up. The waiter said that have good sandwiches.”

 

 **“S** hit.” Alex suddenly sat straight up, scattering the few loose papers that lay around her. They were back at the motel, and Alex had reading and rereading the folders for a good half-hour.

From across the table Dean looked up, an eyebrow raised. “Yeah?”

“I might’ve found something.” Alex pulled all of the folders close, flipping to the first page where their personal information lay. “I mean, maybe.” She quickly ran her gaze over the personal information to make sure. “Okay, okay.” She heard Sam stand up, and after a second felt the familiar pressure on the back of her chair as the hunter leaned against it. “Look at this.” She brushed her fingers over one of the birthdate of one of the boys. “Born June 14th, 1994. June 20th. August 2nd. July 9th. July 29th. All 1994.” She looked up at Sam. “They were all born within three months of each other.”

“That’s weird,” Dean agreed.

“Even more weird?” Alex turned her attention to Jonathan Browning’s profile. “I don’t know if it’s related, but three of the five don’t have a father listed under their contact info.” When neither Winchester made a sound, she expounded, “Maybe these guys all had the same father. I-I mean, I know it’s a long shot —”

“What about the other two?” Sam prompted. “They have fathers listed.”

“Y-Yeah, well, father figures. Maybe the mom got married afterwards. Maybe she cheated on him. I dunno.”

“Maybe the dads left them. That’s why they’re not listed.”

“Yeah, well, maybe. I’m just saying, we’ve got nothing, and this is at least _something_.” She held her breath while Sam and Dean looked at each other.

Dean shrugged. “Yeah. I’ll go back down to the station, see what I can dig up.” He stood up, and Alex watched as he shrugged on his suit jacket. “Be back in, what, an hour?”

“Yeah, okay.” Sam dropped his laptop onto the table by Dean’s spot. Dean left without another word, and Sam returned to the table with a beer. He sat down and opened his computer. “Okay, let’s go with this thing’s taking its own children. I’ve never heard of anything doing that.”

“Yeah.” Alex shrugged, closing the folders. “I mean, maybe something’s, I don’t know, collecting them. We haven’t found any bodies, after all.”

“Could be anything,” Sam agreed. “Vamps, shifter, pagan god.”

Alex grunted in agreement. “Great.”

“I’d put my money on pagan god if I had to,” Sam continued, and Alex looked up, curious as to his reasoning. “They seem to have the more specific M.O.s,” he explained. “Uh, Leshi went after people with idols. The Hold Nickar went after people with meadowsweet wreaths. The Vanir took a man and a women every year.”

“Monsters don’t really do that,” Alex agreed. “Yeah, that makes sense. So now we have to figure out what god takes seventeen year old?”

“Or we could look for patterns in the town’s history,” Sam countered. “Or in other places. I mean, if it’s a pagan god, they’ll have left a trail.”

“Yeah. Sure.” Alex retrieved her laptop and sprawled out on the bed. “Great.”

 

 **S** am’s phone rang half an hour later. “Hey Dean.” Sam leaned back in his chair as he answered it. He listened for a few seconds, quite except for a surprised grunt, before nodding his head. “Yeah, sounds good. Yeah, I might have something. I’ll check it out.” He hung up and tossed his phone onto the table. “Dean might have a lead.”

“Yeah?”

“You were right about the fathers. Four of them don't have one listed on their birth certificate. Dean’s gone to talk to the fifth one’s mother.”

“Huh. And what’d you find?”

“Six teenagers went missing in Oregon five years ago. Three boys, three girls. And five years before that in Pennsylvania.” Sam turned his laptop so Alex could see he was on the FBI database. “I mean, it goes back for years. No one’s really connected them because they’ve been so far apart.”

“Huh. So we’re back on pagan god.”

“Yeah. That’s the only thing that hunts in cycles like that.” Sam shifted in his seat, pulling his massive legs up and folded underneath him. “So what takes six teens at a time?”

“Wait. Six?” Alex scooped up her laptop and joined Sam at the table. “We only have five missing.” She grinned. “That’s great. I mean, all we have to do is find a teen born between June and September of 1994 without a father.”

Sam hesitated. “Yeah. But first we have to figure out who we’re dealing with. We can’t just run in there blind. We’ll see what Dean finds.”

Alex opened up her web browser before pausing. “The five teens. They’ve all gone missing in increments of two days. The last one went missing this morning. That gives us 48 hours or so.”

 

 **D** ean didn’t make it back to the motel room until almost two hours later. Alex looked up when the door slammed shut. Dean threw his jacket onto the kitchen counter, running his hands through his hair to dislodge the snow.

Alex curled her lip at the sight. “Oh gross. It’s snowing? I thought we came down here to get away from snow.”

“Yeah, well, sorry to disappoint.” Dean sat down next to his brother.

“So. you were gone for long time.” Alex watched as the hunter poured himself a glass of whiskey.

“Yeah, well, you were right. All five teens have an unknown father. After I, uh, learned that Kayla’s Anderson wasn’t her father’s daughter, I went to the other houses. Got a description of the fathers. They all said the same thing. Tall, dark hair. Blue eyes. Tattoo of a, uh, one of those hooked farming things on his left shoulder.”

“Sickle,” Sam corrected.

Alex looked over at Sam, who already had a frown over his face. “Sam?” she tipped her head. “Anything? We think it’s a pagan god,” she told Dean. “Series of six missing teens, five years apart, dating back for decades.”

“Huh.” Dean nodded in interest. “Yeah, sounds like a pagan god alright.”

“Sickle suggests agriculture.” Sam turned back to his laptop.

“Yeah. A farmer who steals his children.” Alex huffed in amusement. “Sounds legit.”

“Also while I was there I looked into other teens who were born between June and September.” Dean pulled a sheet of paper out of his pocket. “There was one other boy. Aaron Samuels. Lives on the other side of town.”

Alex looked over at Sam, an eyebrow raised. “Think that’s him?”

“Sounds like the only game in town.” Sam didn't look up from his laptop. Alex pulled the screen towards her so she could peer over it. “What?”

“Finding anything?”

“Nothing yet —” Suddenly Sam cut off as it all clicked. “Whoa.”

“What?”

“Pagan god, agriculture, three daughters, three sons.” Sam spun his laptop around. “Kronos.”

“The Greek god?” Alex blinked in surprise.

“Yeah. It makes sense. The story of Kronos — he ate his offspring because he was afraid of their power.”

“So you’re telling me daddy rolled back into town just to chow on his kids?” Dean didn’t seem as convinced as his brother, but shrugged it off. “Alright, how do we kill it?”

“I don’t know.” Sam shook his head. “I mean, not yet, anyways.”

“Okay.” Dean smacked the table with the palm of his hand. “You two geeks get on that. I’m going to take a shower.” He walked away, leaving Alex and Sam shaking their heads.

Alex entered “Kronos” into the search bar before scrolling down the page. She read an article, then two, before finally speaking up. “I don’t get it. I—I mean, one place talks about him eating his kids and all, but the next says he doesn’t even have kids.”

“What?” Sam slid his chair next to hers, confusion wrinkling his brow. “Oh.” He leaned against her shoulder, pointing at the screen. “That’s Chronos. C-H. He’s Roman.” He turned the keyboard slightly so he could use it. “You want Kronos with a K. Or just a C. Greek. It’s an easy mistake.” He spun her laptop back to her. “One’s a god of time, the other’s a Titan.”

“Huh.” Alex took her laptop back. “Thanks.”

 

 **“F** ind anything?” Dean’s voice startled Alex out of her thoughts, and she jumped. The hunter was standing behind Sam, staring down at the screen.

Sam shrugged. “Maybe.”

“I’ve learned that he killed his father,” Alex put in helpfully. “So, if we ever go up against Uranus, we, uh,” she looked back down at her screen, “we cut off his balls with a sickle.”

“What the fuck?” Dean walked around to stand behind her. “Greeks, man.”

“Yeah.”

Sam cleared his throat. “Well, the legend goes that Zeus killed his father in two possible ways. The first and most common is that he poisoned his father to get him to, uh, basically regurgitate his brothers.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Gross. Okay, what’s the other?”

“He cut Kronos’ stomach open.”

The Winchester nodded. “I’m all for that one, personally. With anything in particular?”

“Oak,” Alex suddenly suggested. When both Winchesters looked at her she added, “Well, I’m not sure for certain, but oak was the symbol of Zeus and he was the one who cut him up. Might be a lead. I mean, Greeks were a fan of that kind of symbolism.”

Dean looked thoughtful, and Sam nodded. “Yeah. I’ll check into that. Good work.”

 

 **“W** hat’d you dig up?”

Alex looked up at Dean’s voice, head lolling back. “I have nothing,” she groaned, blindly grasping for her coffee cup. “Oak can kill it. Where it is . . . I don’t even know.” She rubbed her eye before taking a sip of the quickly-cooling liquid. “He could be anywhere. Our best shot is with the sixth kid.”

Dean nodded. “Yeah. We’ll stake him out tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Alex tipped her head in pure confusion. “Why — why not _now_?”

“You said yourself the victims were taken 48 hours apart. We’ve still got 24 hours.”

The young angel shook her head. “So? Once we lose this guy, we’ll be back at square one.” She stood up, crossing the room and pulling out her coat.

“Alex, stop. We don’t know enough yet.”

“Enough?” The angel shook her head. “We know how to kill the son of a bitch, don’t we? What else do we need to know?”

Sam and Dean exchanged looks. “We can’t just go in there blind, Pip,” Sam finally said. “That’s how people _die_.”

“Then I’ll go.”

“Like hell you will.” Dean’s eyes flashed. “You’re not hunting alone. Just because you’re an angel doesn’t mean you can be suicidal.” He stood up. “We’ll get on it in the morning, okay?”

Sam grunted in agreement.

“How about we get a drink,” Dean suggested instead. “We’ve been working all day. I think we deserve one.” He slipped on his coat while Sam did the same. “You in or out?”

Alex rolled her eyes before returning her gaze to the ground. “I think I’ll pass. Maybe give Cas a call. It’s been a while.”

Dean grunted in acknowledgement. “Okay, sure.” He moved towards the door, and Alex stepped out of the way. “Just, uh, stay here, okay?”

“Of course.” Alex backed away, returning to her seat at the table. The Winchesters left, and only a minute later she heard the Impala pull out of the parking lot and take off down the street. With another roll of her eyes, Alex stood up and shucked off her jacket.

She dug through her bag and pulled on her old, still a little blood-stained jacket. Then she slid her angel blade up the sleeve, using her grace to anchor it there. “Stay here my ass,” she muttered, stomping across the room and grabbing the paper with the name of the next victim on her way passed. She threw open the door. “I’ll show them.” The young angel trudged out into the street, wings curling around her. “I can hunt.”

 

 **T** he Impala was parked on the street. Alex, finding the doors unlocked, reached into the front seat and popped the trunk. With a quick glance towards the bar, she dug through the weapons box and pulled out a wooden stake. She touched it with her grace then tossed it back inside. Pine. She pulled out a second and then nodded. Oak. She closed the trunk and slid the stake into the inside pocket of her jacket before walking away.

The wind bit into her exposed skin, and the girl clenched and unclenched her hands, trying to warm her fingers. Locke Street. Aaron Samuel lived at the other end. She hurried down the street, squinting at the house numbers. She flicked her grace out as well, hoping to feel anything out of the ordinary.

There.

Alex tipped her head. _What is that?_ It felt strange. She found her feet carrying her towards the source, wings raising slightly and feathers ruffling out to look larger. The thin layer of snow crunched under her feet as she slipped behind a pine tree and circled around to the back. Whatever it was was close by, and she reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out the wooden stake.

Something flitted past her in the dark, and Alex spun around, stake spinning skillfully in her hand. “Hey.” Her wings flared out and she crept towards the corner of the house. She peered around the corner only to see a flash of black, and then she was flat on her back. Her wings cushioned her fall, but the angel still hissed at the weight of them being crushed. She rolled over, using her momentum to flip back onto her feet, eyes flickering back and forth.

Her grace flicked outwards, and she suddenly spun around, wings flaring out at the man in front of her. Tall, muscular, with a thick greying beard and long hair. “Kronos,” she stated.

“What’s an angel like you doing here?” The man spoke with a thick accent, and, as Alex noted, his shoulders were relaxed, obviously not threatened by her presence.

“I’m a hunter.” Alex brandished the oak stake, forcing her shoulders back to appear confident.

"Are you now.” The god let out a disbelieving shake of his head. “Well then, I guess I’ll have to kill you. Pity.” He advanced, but Alex held her ground. “Come to kill me? Save my children? You’re too late. They’re already dead.”

Anger flashed through the young angel’s eyes, and she forced her grace out, pushing it into the creature. It slowed, and Alex sprang forward.

Surprised at her sudden movement, Kronos barely managed to spin away, growling in pain as the stake caught in his arm. He ripped free, fire burning in his eyes. “If that’s the way you want it to be,” he growled, “then fine. So be it.” He dramatically flicked his wrist, and energy pulsed through the young angel with a surprising force. She stumbled backwards, wings folding down and around her for protection. Kronos rushed forward, a fist flying into her face.

Alex fell flat on her back, the wind knocked momentarily out of her. The dark shape loomed above her, and with a flash of panic she rolled to the side as a boot came down right where her stomach had been. Her fingers tightened around the wooden stake, and she drove it into the calf beside her, adrenaline rushing at the sound of his painful howl.

Kronos moved backwards, reaching back and extracting the stake from his leg. He angrily snapped it in half, tossing the pieces behind him. “Looks like your luck’s run out.” He limped towards her, fists clenched.

“Angel, remember?” Alex let her angel blade slip into her hands, twisting it slightly so the moonlight glinted off of the side. The god charged again, but she sidestepped, arm raised to block a blow; however, the strength behind it almost knocked her off her feet. She stumbled back and then hit the ground as something swept her feet out from under her. Her angel blade fell from her hands, sliding across the icy grass.

The young angel rolled to her knees, launching herself after it, but made it only a few feet before a hand wrapped around her ankle. Panic pushed through her, but Alex forced it down, hands scrambling for purchase on the icy ground, legs flailing behind her, trying to knock away the god. Something hard bumped against her hand, and she closed her fingers around it. Not even checking what it was, Alex flipped around; the momentum from her twisting also caused the creature to slip, falling on top of her.

Alex’s grace told her she was holding a fragment of the oak stake the moment she plunged it into Kronos’ chest. The weight of the pagan god falling only drove the stake deeper, and it took Alex several seconds to roll the heavy body off of her. She picked up her angel blade and knelt beside it, staring at his face. How many children had he taken and killed? Rage boiled through her, hotter and heavier than ever before, and Alex saw red. She yanked the stake free, plunging it again and again into the god’s chest.

She stopped when she heard it. A slow, quiet clapping. Alex jumped to her feet, wings flaring out as she saw who it was. “You’re suppose to be dead.”

“Well, isn’t life full of disappointments,” Crowley quipped. “Having fun, kitten?"

Alex stalked forward, angel blade falling into her hand, fully intent on killing the demon herself.

A invisible wall stopped her. Alex pushed her grace against it, fury fueling the fire inside. “The hell are you doing here?” she hissed.

“Remember that little talk we had? Before your mate so kindly got the Winchesters off of my ass?” Crowley remained as suave as ever, not threatened by her snarl. “Speaking of, let’s not let them know about this little chat, alright? It’s in both of our best interests to keep them in the dark and off of my tail.” His tone was light, but Alex could hear the unspoken threat behind his words.

However, she just nodded. “Yeah. Sure.” That made sense. If the Winchesters found out now, they would focus all of their attention on finding out why Castiel had lied to them. If Balthazar was right, this was the last thing Castiel needed. “Deal.”

“Glad that’s taken care of. Now, back to that little rage fit I had the pleasure of witnessing. Mind explaining that one? Was there a reason, or where you just lashing out?”

“Mind your own damn business.” Alex’s wings flared out, and the anger supercharged her grace, letting lightning flash through the darkened sky.

“Mm. I warned you about letting that build up, didn’t I?” Crowley sauntered forward, watching as the angel surged once more against the invisible wall. “Have you given any thought to my proposition, darling? You. Me. Hell. Yay or nay?”

“Go fuck yourself.”

The demon’s face twisted into a small frown, but he waved her comment off. “Sounds complicated.” He studied her for one more second before adding, “I’ll take that as a no. However, I’ll let my offer stand. For now. And darling? Try and keep all that pent up rage under control. It’s rather unbecoming.” He disappeared, and Alex roared, grace exploding outwards.

There was a scream. Alex jumped and spun around, wings flaring out at the sight of a woman standing at the backdoor. She screamed again, and Alex caught sight of her reflection in the window. The iris around her pupil was a glowing orange, like fire was dancing there, giving her entire face an inhuman appearance. Fear pulsed through her and she took a step back as it died away.

Alex turned and ran.

 

 **S** he pounded on the motel door, praying that the Winchester’s were back. Thankfully the door opened, and Alex pushed her way past Dean.

“Whoa whoa whoa.” Dean closed the door and locked it, reaching for her shoulder. “I told you to stay here! Where the hell have you been?”

“Kronos is dead.”

“What?” Sam stood up from the table, and then the world was spinning.

Dean pinned her against the wall, anger rolling off him in waves. “You what?” he spat. “I told you we were going to do this together.”

“I’m old enough to hunt on my own!” Alex spat back. “And it’s a good thing I did, otherwise we never would have found him! He was at the guy’s house.”

“And what if you had been hurt, huh? Or killed? What would I have told Bobby? Hell, what would I have told _Cas_?” Anger boiled in the Winchester’s eyes, hard and unrelenting. “I promised them to keep you safe, dammit!” Suddenly he pulled her close, arms wrapping around her, knocking the breath out of the young angel. She blinked in confusion at the sudden change. “Don’t do that again,” Dean whispered fiercely, hugging her tighter. “Please.” He stepped away, arms dropping back to his side, the sudden burst of emotions fading. “You could’ve at least answered your phone. That way I wouldn’t have to think that you’re dead.”

Alex reached into her back pocket to find it empty. “I . . . I must have left it in the car,” she said lamely. “Sorry.”

Dean just shook his head. “At least you’re okay.” He walked back over to the table and picked up a beer, downing the rest of it. “How’d it go?”

“It was fine. He went down fast enough.” Alex shrugged, eyes falling to the ground.

“And the body?”

“Uh . . .” The young angel scuffled her feet. “The fight went down in Samuel’s backyard. A woman saw me, uh, she saw me kill him. She screamed, I . . . I ran.”

Silence as Sam and Dean exchanged looks. “Did she get a good look at you?”

“I don’t — I don’t think she’ll be able to identify me. It was dark.” Alex walked over to the bed and sat down. “We should, uh, we should probably get going in the morning though.”

Both Winchesters nodded. “Yeah. That’s a good idea.” Dean cracked open another beer and took a swig. “Let’s do that.”

 

 **T** he motel was quiet. Both Winchesters were passed out on the far bed, too drunk to be waking up anytime soon. Alex was laying on the other bed, staring up at the ceiling, replaying what she had seen in that window over and over again. Her eyes. Why had they been orange? Alex tossed and turned, and finally threw off the blankets, sitting up. “Cas?” The young angel tipped her head, staring up at the ceilings. “Please. I — I know you’re busy, a-and that you have to hit Raphael hard and all, but this . . . I don’t know what to do.”

“What happened?” Castiel landed in front of her, eyes flashing with worry.

Alex slid to one side, patting the bed beside her. “I . . . I don’t even know h-how —” She shook her head.

The angel sat down, concern deeply etched across his face. “Let me see,” he persisted, reaching up to cup her cheek. His grace pushed into her body, worry making it pulse repeatedly.

Alex closed her eyes, replaying the ever-familiar scene in her mind once again. Her reflection was in the darkened window, staring back. Her face was darkened, but where her eyes should be sat two orange circles, glowing with what could only be their own light.

Castiel pulled back, and Alex could see her own confusion reflected in his face. “What did you do?”

“I don’t know!” The words came out as a wail, and the young angel immediately lowered her voice, careful not to wake the Winchesters. “I — we was hunting Kronos. The, uh, the Titan. I went off on my own to find him. I did, we fought, and I killed him. I . . . I was mad — furious, really. I just started stabbing him and stabbing him. I . . .” The young angel hesitated before lying, “I only looked up when someone screamed.”

Castiel sat in silence for several long seconds. His fingers trailed over the back of her hand as he thought, and Alex closed her eyes, leaning into her mate. “I’ve never seen that before,” he finally admitted. “Angels — on some occasions our eyes will glow with our grace, giving them a whitish-blue light, but . . . never like that.” After another long pause he added, “I wonder if . . .”

“If what?” Alex persisted. She leaned forward, hands on the angel’s thighs. “Cas. Tell me?”

“I — and I don’t know this for sure, _enay_ — but maybe, if it’s possible —”

“Cas. Spit it out already.”

“It might be because your grace isn’t completely your own,” the seraph finally said. “You have a large part of Lucifer’s grace still in you, unbonded.” His gaze dropped to his lap. “I don’t know how.”

Alex reached out, fingers brushing through his hair. “I’m sorry.” She leaned closer, pressing a light kiss on his cheek. “I didn't mean to distract you.”

Castiel turned to look her in the eyes, confusion back on his face. “Alex. You are never a distraction. You are the most important thing in my life, understand? I may be fighting a war, but I will always come when you need me.”

“C-Can . . .” Alex hesitated, unsure. “Can you stay the night? I understand if you can’t,” she quickly added. “I mean, if you’re mid battle —”

Castiel gently cut her off. “I can stay,” he promised. “I . . . I don’t know for how long, but I’ll stay as long as I can.”

Alex nodded, shifting backwards to slide under the covers. “They won’t wake up until the morning,” she promised, seeing how her mate’s gaze slid over the Winchesters.

The angel stood up and removed his coat and jacket, neatly placing them on the chair beside the bed. “I wasn’t worried about them waking up,” he informed her, kicking off his shoes before sitting down beside her. He rested his back against the headboard, wings falling flat so Alex could move closer. She did, shifting so she was partly laying on top of the angel. His wings folded down around her, and she burrowed deeper into his warmth. “ _Ol chi aziazor elsa_ ,” he promised. “ _Cacg gi uls de acocasahe,elasa bol ozien_.”

Alex sighed at his words, eyes falling shut. _I will love you. Until the end of time, you are mine_. A thought tugged at the back of her mind, and she took a deep breath. “When did you first realize you loved me?” She twisted slightly to look up into her mate’s eyes.

Castiel looked thoughtful for only a second. “Valentines Day two years ago,” he finally said. “Remember? We were in Sioux Falls looking for Famine.” When Alex nodded, he continued. “It was when we were discussing what we liked about each other. That was when I first realized that I loved you. It was after Dean had killed Famine, when you and I were talking back at Bobby’s, when I promised myself that you would never be alone again.” His gaze flitted away from hers. “Unfortunately, I don’t think I’ve been doing a very good job.”

Alex didn’t respond, instead focusing her attention on one of Castiel’s feathers. “Hang on a second.” She looked up at the angel in confusion. “Famine. That was after you, uh, made me an angel. So you asked me without actually, you know, having any feelings towards me, huh?”

“Yes, I, uh . . . I asked you before I realized that I truly loved you, yes.” Castiel paused, taking a moment to compose his answer. “Remember the month before that. You would go out to that hill every day after you were attacked by a werewolf.”

“Yeah, I remember that. The Winchesters left me at Bobby’s for a month.”

“That was when I decided it was you I was going to ask.” One of Castiel’s hands found her, their fingers threading together. “Even then I knew we had something special between us, _pas enay_. It wasn’t love yet, but I knew one day it would be.” His other hand came to rest in her hair, and Alex closed her eyes. “Don’t forget, an angel’s love will last forever. It’s not something that comes suddenly. It takes time to build, to grow. But it’s stronger than any other love.”

Alex grunted in agreement, burrowing deeper into her mate. “Love you,” she mumbled out, sleep pulling her down.

“I love you too, _iaida turs_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, just a little review of all the Enochian, as I'm sure, unlike me, most of you have forgotten it: 
> 
> _le pas enay_ \- my little angel  
>  _pas enay_ \-- little angel  
>  _enay_ \-- angel
> 
>  _Iaida turs_ \-- my beautiful
> 
> and _le mohoath_ wasn't used, but that's Lucifer's nickname for her, and that means most beautiful


	14. . . . And Then There Were None

**“A** lex!” Bobby’s voice had the angel looking up. She was sitting in the basement, shuffling through several of the books currently stored on the far shelves.

“What?” Alex hurried halfway up the stairs, head tipped in confusion.

“Come here.”

The angel complied, using her grace to locate the old hunter. She stepped into the study to see Sam and Dean were there as well, staring at something on the desk. “What?” she repeated. Then she looked up at Sam. “Hey!”

“Uh . . . what?”

Alex leaned up and tugged on the collar of his red-and-grey button down. “That’s mine!”

“No, it’s not.” Sam looked down at his shirt. “Pretty sure it’s mine.”

“Yeah, well I took it from you!” The female angel frowned in disappointment. “I like that shirt.”

“So do I.” Sam knocked her hands away, and Alex frowned.

Bobby pointed to a map he had laid down. “I’ve been getting blasts from hunters all week. Nest of vamps. Werewolf dance part. Shifters, six of them.” He circled thee consecutive towns on the map before looking up. “Two hunters died taking them out.”

A sympathetic noise left Alex’s throat. “Who?”

“None you’d know.” Bobby continued circling areas on the map. “Ghouls. Ghouls. Ghoul-wraith smorgasbord.”

Dean studied the map. “Is that just me, or is that a straight-kick line down 1-80?”

“Exactly.”

“Looks to me like it’s a Sherman march monster mash.”

Alex let out a snort of amusement at Dean’s words, but Bobby just rolled his eyes. “Please.” Alex smacked Bobby on the shoulder. “That was funny.” When Bobby didn’t respond she frowned. “Wow. You’re a stale cinnamon roll.”

“I am not,” the hunter huffed.

“You are too.”

Bobby rolled his eyes again. Turning his attention away from Alex he circled another town on the map, and Sam squinted in confusion. “What is it?”

“Guy bashes in his family’s head.”

“Ew.” Alex shifted her weight further onto the desk. “I, I mean normally, that doesn’t sound exactly like our thing.”

“Yeah, well it falls in line.” Bobby put the cap back on the red sharpie and dropped it off to the side.

“If we leave now we can get there by tonight,” Dean put in. “Hit the crime scene tomorrow.”

Bobby shook his head. “Guy’s already been processed, crime scene’s closed.” However he stood up with a nod. “Think I’ll come with, if you don’t mind. It’s been a while.” He didn’t wait for an answer before walking out of the room.

Dean and Sam exchanged looks, and Alex shrugged. “I guess I’ll get packed.”

 

**December 18th, 2011**

**Sandusky, Ohio**

**E** ighteen hours later Alex found herself seated in the police station, eyes glued to the screen in front of her. It was the video footage from this gas station a few miles out of town. Bobby and the Winchesters were in Interrogation Room C talking to the murderer. She watched as the truck pulled away before rewinding the tape again with a sigh. There was nothing weird. The guy in question picked up a girl — Alex paused, narrowing her eyes. Wait a minute. There was something strange about the girl. Her wings twitched uncomfortably as she paused the video. Her fingers shifted the arrow keys to move the video forward, frame by frame.

There. Alex’s feathers ruffled. The screen was focused on the girl’s face. Except that wasn’t a human face at all. It was long and twisted; it reminded Alex of a demon’s face, twisted and cruel, except for the fact that it was unnaturally pale.

“Find anything?” A voice next to her ear made her jump, and Alex let out a small curse. “What’s that?”

“Dammit Dean.” Alex shook out her wings. She heard Bobby’s amused breath before she pointed to the screen. “So, that girl . . .”

“Yeah. That’s weird.”

“I’ve never seen that in my life,” Bobby agreed. “All those vamps and ghouls out on I-80 — maybe they’re coming in for Mother’s Day.”

“Wait. Y-You think this is the Mother of All?”

“You got a better theory?”

“Okay, well, uh, if this is big mama — whatever she is, then we got zero on ganking her.” Dean looked down at Alex, but the angel just shrugged. “So what are we gonna do if we run into her? Just throw salt and hope?”

“No, we’re gonna turn tail and run because we’re in over our heads.” A hand came to rest on Alex’s shoulder, and she glanced over to see it was Bobby’s. “And I don’t think even an angel’s gonna be much use.”

Alex shook her head in agreement. “I wouldn’t stand a chance.”

Movement in the room had Alex looking up to see several officers on the move. “Hey.” One waved over at them. “Let’s go.”

“What’s the ruckus?” Bobby asked.

“A guy just went postal down at the cannery.”

The three hunters exchanged looks, and Bobby nodded. “Okay, I’ll go. You two finish up here. Alex, with me.”

 

 **T** wenty minutes later Alex found herself stooping under the yellow caution tape and into the crime scene. The heavy smell of polluted water made her nose twitch unpleasantly, and she lengthened her stride to keep up with Bobby. She watched as three gurneys were rolled past by EMTs, and her grace recoiled when it brushed against them. No souls. They were dead.

“FBI. Willis.” Bobby flashed his badge, and Alex hurriedly did the same, introducing herself as well. “How many in there?”

“Six dead,” the police officer answered.

“What happened?”

“Apparently a guy walks in, pulls a hunting rifle, just open fires.” Footsteps approached, and the officer turned his attention to the cannery door. “Captain!” He waved over another man.

“What?” The man approached, squinting at Bobby and Alex. “There a fed convention in town or something?”

“Beg your pardon?”

“Agent Willis?” A very familiar voice had Alex perking up. “Am I right?” A man walked towards them, dressed in the same outfit as Bobby; suit, tie, long grey trench coat. Alex grinned in recognition.

“Agent.” Bobby managed to keep the surprise out of his voice at Rufus’ appearance. “I wasn’t expecting you . . . yet.”

“Well apparently you didn’t get the phone call.” Rufus turned his attention to Alex, eyes flashing with warmth. “Who’s the newbie?”

“Agent Rollins.” Alex held out her hand. Rufus dutifully shook it, flashing her a white smile. “And I’m not a ‘newbie.’ ”

“Sure you aren’t.” Rufus turned to the officers and cleared his throat. “Gentlemen, will you excuse us?” He led the two of them away from the scene.

Bobby turned to face him, a frown on his face. “What in the high holy are you doing here, Rufus?”

“Same as you. Tracking thirty-one flavors of crazy, which led us both smack into the middle of this.”

“Right. Huh. Can we talk to the perp?”

“Well, we can give it a shot. I don’t know if he’s gonna talk back, though. Cops put eight bullets in him.”

Alex chuckled, and, when Bobby looked at her, she shook her head, knowing that look. “Uh-uh. I can’t talk to him. I’m an angel, not a physic.”

“Excuse me?”

“Oh yeah.” Alex stopped by the car and spun around, holding out a hand. “Alex. Ex-human, now Angel of the Lord.” She smiled at the hunter’s confusion.

“Oh.” Rufus blinked, then nodded. “So, are we partnering on this or not?” Alex nodded enthusiastically, but Bobby was obviously hesitant about taking up the hunter’s offer. Rufus frowned. “Come on, man. It’s not rocket science. We’re here. Let’s do this.” Another pause, and Rufus pushed some more. “Just like old times.” He amiably punched Bobby in the shoulder.

“Long as I get to drive.”

Rufus let out a loud laugh. “Hell no.” He walked off towards the cars, still laughing.

Alex lengthened her stride to catch up with him. “So . . . morgue?” she suggested, stopping by Bobby’s car. She opened the back door to the black sedan, motioning inside. Rufus — with some reluctance — got into the passenger side, and Bobby got behind the wheel.

 

 **A** lex stumbled out of the car, wings flaring out to keep her stable. The door slammed shut as Rufus got out. The hunter let out a sharp breath, and Alex looked over at him. “I swear he never drives like that when you’re not here,” she wheezed out. “God, Bobby! What was that?”

Bobby shrugged, a frown across his face. “I thought you wanted to go to the morgue.”

“Yeah! I wanted to go there and still be _alive_.” The angel let out a snort. “I’m surprised we’re not dead.”

“Come on.” Bobby gruffly led them into the Lorain County Morgue. Alex slid into line behind Rufus with a huff, rolling her shoulders so her feathers fell flat.

They introduced themselves as FBI and soon found themselves alone in the morgue with the body of a dead man. Alex studied the bare chest, mentally counting up the eight bullet holes. “Yeah,” she agreed. “Quite dead.”

“So, do you think the mother of whatever the hell is wrapped up in this?” Rufus eventually asked.

“Looks like.” Bobby circled the body, eyes scanning over every inch of of skin.

“These guys are just going berserk, Bobby. How is this a monster thing?”

“I don’t know. That’s why we’re hacking him open.” Bobby paused by the right side of the corpse’s head and titled it away, leaning over to study something. “Hand me one of those things over there.” He vaguely motioned to the tray of tools over behind Rufus.

Alex circled around to try and see what Bobby was staring at while Rufus did as the hunter asked. Bobby stuck the swab into the man’s ear, and when he pulled it back there was slime. A dark, gooey slime. Alex’s first impression was ectoplasm, and she sniffed the air before recoiling violently. “God that stinks!”

“What you got? When Bobby held it up Rufus squinted in confusion. “Is that ecto?” He took the swab, studying it. “That’s not ecto.” He sniffed and immediately winced. “What the hell is that?”

“It’s strong, isn’t it?” Alex blew air out of her nose to clear it out. “I can smell it from here. Angel senses,” she added when Rufus raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t know what it is,” Bobby admitted. “Something new.”

“New? There’s no such thing as ‘new,’ Bobby.”

“Well, I don’t know,” Alex began. “I mean . . .” She hesitated, collecting her thoughts. “The Mother of All — if that’s who we’re dealing with — she created all these monsters, right? I . . . who’s to say she’s not creating more, you know?”

Rufus looked like he was about to argue, but hesitated. Then he nodded, glancing over at Bobby. “She might have a point,” he agreed. “She’s pretty smart.”

“Yeah,” Bobby begrudgingly admitted. “She is.”

“So. We gonna cut this guy open or not?”

Bobby shook his head. “No. Think about it. Those guys who snapped. They both worked at the cannery.”

“So whatever’s going down is going down there.” Alex nodded in agreement. “Makes sense. I can call the Winchesters. Tell them to meet us there.”

Bobby nodded. “Do that.”

 

 **“I** don’t even know why you have a driver’s license.” Rufus slammed the car door shut, glaring over at Bobby. Alex staggered out of the car, clutching her chest for dramatic effect.

“Shut up.” Bobby shoved Alex, who just laughed, straightening up at the sight of the Winchesters. They were grinning, obviously amused. Alex hurried over to them, shivering in the cold night air.

Dean smiled over at the dark-skinned hunter. “Look what the cat dragged in.”

“It’s good to see you, Rufus,” Sam added warmly.

“I can believe it. It must get old dealing with this miserable cuss here all by yourself.”

“Is it that obvious?”

“Why don’t you three get a room?” Bobby grumbled, and Alex let out a full laugh.

Dean shook off Bobby’s gruffness. “All right. We all pack a snack?” Sam grunted in agreement, and Dean nodded. “Let’s see what we can see.” And with that, he turned around and led the way into the cannery.

Alex walked beside Sam and Rufus, grace flicking out every so often. Her grace dropped the angel blade into her hand, and it glinted in the faint light, catching Rufus’ attention. “What’s that?”

Alex held it up so he could see. “Angel blade,” she explained quietly. “Kills everything short of archangels. And probably Death.” Her voice dropped lower. “Probably won’t kill this Mother thing either. Doesn’t really work on the older creatures.” She twirled it around in her hand before letting it drop back to her side. “But works really well on most monsters.”

“Huh.”

All five of them got into an elevator and began to ascend. Alex found herself tightly packed between Sam and Bobby, and pulled her wings in tight, not liking the feeling of her feathers brushing through their bodies. When the elevator stopped Alex was the first one out. She started down the hall, slowing her step so Dean could take the lead again.

They turned down the hall, and Alex flicked her grace out again before stopping in her tracks. “Dean!” she hissed.

The Winchester turned, confused. “What?”

“People.” Alex pressed her grace out again, and her lips twisted downwards in confusion. “Two of them. They feel familiar.” She looked up at Dean. “We know them.”

“How the hell does she know that?” Rufus’ flashlight illuminated Alex. “You’re seriously an angel? How?”

“I’ll tell you later.” Alex cut off as footsteps approached. Every hunter turned, telling her they all heard them too.

A woman walked into view, and Dean stepped forward in confusion as the woman pushed her way through the Chain-link door. “Gwen?”

Gwen Campbell lowered her gun in recognition. “Dean.” Her voice was flat.

Alex felt the other human approach; and Dean suddenly rushed forward, throwing the door open and raising his gun. “Welcome to next time,” he growled.

Sam rushed forward, knocking Dean’s gun away before he could fire, Alex close on his heels. “No no no no!” Sam tried to wrestle the gun away. “Hold on!”

“I said I’d kill him!” Dean yelled.

“Look, just a second!”

Dean gave in, but not before shooting a dirty glare over at Samuel. His grandfather stared back, eyes cold, and Alex’s wings raised slightly in agitation.

“I take it you know each other.” Rufus’ voice shocked her out of her thoughts, and she turned around to nod at the hunter.

Dean’s voice was cold, and he didn’t break eye contact. “He’s our grandfather,” he spat.

“Oh. Somebody needs a hug.”

Bobby stepped forward. “Why are you here?”

“We’re working. You?”

“None of your damn business!” Dean snapped.

“Sam, take Dean for a walk.”

Dean turned to stare at Bobby. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Look, Dean, it’s fine.” Sam half led, half pushed Dean out the door, and Alex turned her attention back to Samuel, eyes cold.

“So . . .” Bobby began again, “you’re Samuel.”

“You must be the guy pretending to be their father.”

Bobby bristled, but his voice managed to remain calm. “Well somebody ought to.”

The door swung back open, and Alex felt Sam reenter the room. He stopped by her, and she unconsciously shifted a touch closer.

“Sam.” Samuel studied the younger Winchester curiously. “You’re looking well.”

“Save the small talk, alright?”

“You look different.”

“I got my soul back.” Sam added pointedly, “No thanks to you, I hear.”

“You hear?” Samuel raised an eyebrow in interest. “You don’t remember.”

“I remember enough.”

Rufus cleared his throat. “I, uh, really hate to break up this circle of love, but why don’t we talk shop, alright? What’s this thing you’re hunting?”

Samuel moved over to the metal table and sat down, casually crossing his legs. “A creature from Purgatory,” he finally said. “She calls herself Eve.”

“Eve?” Sam glanced down at Alex, who was still staring at Samuel.

“Yep. They call her Mother. She was here about 10,000 years ago. Every freak that walked the Earth can be traced back to her. And she’s back.”

Bobby tipped his head slightly in curiosity. “How the hell do you know about that?”

Samuel let out a half-amused breath. “You don’t know half the thing I know, _kid_. Hell, until recently you didn’t even know about us.”

“I now know that you’d throw your own kin to hungry ghouls,” Bobby retorted. “I think I know enough.”

Gwen turned to Samuel in surprise. “You _what?”_

“Dean lied to the man.”

“You gave me up to the King of Hell!” Alex spat, anger momentarily getting the best of her. She stepped forward, but Sam held her back.

Gwen stared at her in disbelief, and Bobby cleared his throat. “Why don’t you go ask Dean?” he suggested.

“Good idea.” Gwen strolled past them, and the door swung closed behind her.

The minute she was out of sight Samuel turned his attention back to Alex. “I thought you were suppose to go to the ghouls too,” he remarked casually.

Alex’s wings flared out in anger, but her words came out as a growl. “Angel, remember? I can kill a ghoul with a touch.” She hesitated before adding, “Besides. Crowley and I . . . we have a history. Not a good one.”

“Anyways.What else do you know about the Mother of —” Bobby was cut off by a gunshot.

Alex immediately perked up, spinning around towards where it came from. Sam took off, and Alex followed close on his heels. They turned the corner, and Alex saw a body laying on the ground. It was Gwen. Sam hurriedly checked for a pulse, but Alex could feel the faint and labored breaths. Gwen was still alive.

“Dean!”

“See if you can plug that hole up, Bobby.” Rufus was already on the ground beside the fallen woman, checking for a pulse as well.

Alex dropped to her knees, grace pushing against the wound. “Single shot to the abdomen,” she murmured, mostly to herself. She placed a hand over Gwen’s stomach, eyes falling closed. Her grace pushed inwards, and Alex winced at the massive internal bleeding. She pulled back and opened her eyes. “I can’t help her,” she whispered. “I — everything’s been hit. Her stomach, liver, spine. She’s bleeding out from the inside.”

Bobby reluctantly pulled back, but Rufus didn’t seem to have heard her. “Come on!” he yelled down at Gwen, pushing down on her chest. “Come on!” He repeated compressions, but Alex knew it was no use.

She fell back on her knees as the soul faded away. There was something else in the room, another presence, and Alex closed her eyes, knowing what she was feeling. Reaper. “Rufus.” Her soft voice stopped the hunter. “It’s too late. She’s gone.”

“Ah. Dammit.” Rufus pulled away with a breath of disappointment.

Bobby looked up at Samuel, who was just staring down at Gwen’s body. “I’m sorry . . . if you care.”

“Screw you. I care.”

Sam came running back. He slowed to a stop when he saw the scene in front of him. “Is she, uh . . .” Rufus shook his head, and Sam let out a long breath.

“Where’s Dean?” Rufus pulled himself to his feet.

“I couldn’t find him. Whatever got into those guys must have got into Dean.”

Bobby stood up with a long breath and pulled out a white rag out of his jacket pocket. “Rufus, help Samuel move her somewhere,” he instructed the hunter, wiping the blood off of his hands. “Sam and I will lock down here. We’re gonna want to find Dean before he finds us.”

“I’ll come with you.” Alex walked over to stand next to Sam. “If that thing’s still inside Dean we need to find a way to get it out without killing him.”

“We’re going to find him _alive_ , Samuel,” Sam agreed. “Or I’m gonna put a bullet through your head.”

“Come on.” Bobby led them away. As soon as they were out of earshot Bobby reached into his jacket pocket. “Alex.” He handed her a large padlock. “Back door. Go.”

Alex nodded. She broke into a light jog ahead of the hunters and turned the corner.

 

 **F** ive minutes later she was standing in front of the back door. The cannery was dark, but she could see clearly, easily maneuvering her way around pallets and pipes. She locked the lock onto the metal door before turning. She assumed Bobby and Sam to be at the front door, doing the same thing, and she quickly made her way across the large floor. “Now what?” she whispered as soon as she was in earshot.

“Now we find Dean.” Sam clicked his padlock into place before turning to look at her. The angel flinched at the bright flashlight. “Any ideas?”

Alex frowned. “I could search the entire building,” she said quietly, “but that would probably knock out my grace for half an hour. If he moved I couldn’t find him.”

“That’s fine,” Bobby promised. “Just get us a general idea.”

The young angel nodded. “Close your eyes.” She closed her eyes as well, letting her grace explode outwards. It wrapped around pallets, flickered up the stairs, pushed through the floor, searching every nook and cranny within the entire building. She felt Rufus and Samuel in the basement, and — there.

She pulled back, exhausted but successful. “Downstairs,” she finally said, taking a moment to catch her breath. “Rufus a-and Samuel are there too.” She wiped a hand across her forehead, unsurprised to find perspiration.

“You okay?”

“I just searched an entire factory in under three seconds,” Alex lightly shot back to the Winchester. “I’m a little winded.”

“Well, come on.” Bobby and Sam walked away, and Alex rolled her eyes. She trailed after them.

 

 **T** hey reached the basement, and Alex faltered, not sure where Dean was any longer. Sam reached into his pocket and pulled out his cellphone, and, after a few seconds, a faint ringing reached Alex’s ears. She grinned in realization. “Clever,” she praised, taking the lead. “This way.”

She turned down a hallway, and then another before hearing voices. Sam and Bobby heard them a second later and rushed past Alex, leaving her once again in the rear. They pushed through plastic sheeting and slid to a stop, guns raised. “Hey hey hey hey,” she heard Sam warn, and entered the room in time to see all five hunters, guns raised and pointed at each other. Her angel blade slid into her hand, unsure whether or not this was going to escalate.

“Okay, both of you,” Bobby warned, gun pointed at Samuel.

“Both of us my ass!” Rufus snapped.

“I am not in the mood!” Dean yelled. “I-I just had a — a twelve in . . . harpy crawl out of my ear!”

“What?”

“You heard me.” Dean looked over at his brother, anger lessening some, but kept his gun trained on Rufus . “I just woke up on the ground to see this — this . . . worm thing slide out of my fucking ear and into the vent. So you tell me what the fuck is going on!”

“You killed Gwen. That’s what’s going on.”

Dean froze, gaze sliding over to Samuel in complete surprise. Then he lowered his gun. “We were just talking out in the hallway. That’s the last thing I remember. That _thing_ must have jumped me.”

“So, we’re talking about, like, a monster that gets in you?” Bobby reiterated.

“It’s like a Khan worm on steroids!” Dean snapped.

“You mean like a parasite, something that took over your body.”

Dean nodded at his brother. “Worm crawls in you, worm crawls out.”

“Monster possession?” Rufus seemed surprised. “That’s novel.”

“Or that thing’s still in you, and we can’t trust a word you’re saying.”

“It’s not!” Dean pointed his gun straight at Samuel’s head, and Alex heard the click as he cocked the hammer.

“Check your ear,” Bobby suggested.

Dean turned to look at Bobby, gun dropping down to his side in confusion. “What do you mean, check my ear?” he snapped. Rufus took the opportunity to step forward and shove a finger in Dean’s ear. The hunter recoiled. “Hey! What? Why don’t you buy me a drink first?”

“Second date.” The hunter studied his finger. “Oh yeah. We’re goo positive.”

“What does that mean?” Dean turned around to look at Bobby. “What does that mean?”

Bobby walked past Alex, and she shifted slightly to the side to give him space. She heard him grab something and turned to see him grab a sack off of a hook.

“It means it was in you alright,” Rufus was saying, and Alex turned her attention back to them.

“Or still is,” Samuel added darkly.

“It’s not in me!”

“We found goo in the other man’s ear as well,” the angel put forward helpfully.

“Okay, everybody give up your guns.” Bobby returned to the group, holding out the bag.

“Whoa whoa whoa whoa,” Rufus protested. “Think about this, Bobby.”

“I’m thinking we don’t know who is and who ain’t got the Khan worm up inside their melon.”

“It’s not in me!” Dean repeated.

“I never said it was. Point is we don’t know who it is. It could be any of us. So the best we can do is make it that much harder for that thing to blow our fool heads off.” He opened up the sack and dropped his gun inside. Sam and Dean did the same, and Rufus reluctantly followed suit.

Alex pulled out her own handgun and tossed it into the sack. Then she reluctantly let her angel blade fall into her hands.

As if Bobby could read her mind, he said, “That too, princess.”

The young angel tossed her weapon into the bag before stepping back. “I feel naked,” she muttered under her breath before adding louder, “It’s stupid. I still have my grace. I could smite everyone last one of you if I wanted to.”

“Yeah, well, you said you were knocked out for a good half an hour still,” Bobby countered. “Unless you want to be put in the sack.”

Alex grumbled an insult under her breath, but backed down. Her attention turned to Samuel Campbell, who was still holding his handgun.

Rufus was the one to speak. “Are you waiting for a handwritten invitation, Campbell?”

Samuel shot the hunter a glare, but dropped his gun in the bag. Bobby closed the bag and walked away, expecting the other four to follow. They did.

 

 **B** obby threw the sack into one of the lockers up on the second floor break room before locking it closed with a padlock he pulled once again out of his pocket. Alex opened her mouth to ask where exactly all those locks were coming from, but held her tongue. It was Bobby, after all. “Okay.” Bobby turned back to all of them. “We need some time to breathe, make a plan.”

“A plan?” Samuel let out a scoffing noise. “Based on?”

“I’m gonna make a few phone calls, see if anybody ever heard of this thing.”

Rufus nodded in agreement. “Ditto. Got a few trees I can shake.”

Both hunters pulled out their cellphones and Alex sighed, retiring to one of the tables. This would take a while.

 

 **T** here was movement. Alex looked up from where she was stretched out on the table to see Samuel stand up and move towards the door. Sam got to his feet and held out his hand to stop him.

Samuel stopped in his tracks. “Relax. Bathroom break. So, unless you want to hold it for me . . .”

Sam stepped down, and Samuel left. Alex dropped her head back down onto the table as she heard Sam and Dean leave after him. There went trouble; however, Alex really didn’t care. The Winchesters could hold their own.

“Well, I got a dump truck full of bubkes,” she heard Bobby finally said, snapping his phone shut.

“Nothing here either,” Rufus agreed. “You call Willie?”

“Of course,” Bobby grunted. “You think I’m an idjit?”

“How about Raj?”

“Wouldn’t talk to me.”

“Yeah, me either.”

“Okay, plan B. Let’s just go and grab the thing.” There was movement, but Alex didn’t look up to see who or what.  
   
“And then what exactly?”

“Well, we sit on our thumbs, or we go in guns blazing.”

“Like Omaha?”

Silence. Then, “You know what? Fuck you for bringing up Omaha. That’s just low.”

There was a gunshot. Alex sat up, wings flaring out in alarm. She jumped to her feet as Bobby and Rufus rushed out the door, similar concern on their faces.

“I heard a shot!” Bobby insisted as they rounded the corner.

“Samuel.” Dean and Sam paused for only a second before taking back off.

“Uh, Bobby?” Rufus turned to the hunter. “I’m gonna need my gun back.”

“You think?”

“Yeah.” Alex hurried off ahead of them back into the break room, skidding to a stop beside the locker. She touched the combination lock with two fingers, and it immediately sprang open.

“Oh, you gotta teach me that trick.”

Alex shot a grin over her shoulder. “Angel, remember? Comes with the wings.” She flapped hers in emphasis, momentarily forgetting they couldn’t see them. She tossed the bag to Rufus, who caught it.

He handed it to Bobby. “Hey, don’t feel bad. You know, it was a good plan, except for the part where the monster would definitely, _definitely_ not give up his guns!”

“Shut up.” Bobby stomped over to a table and empty the sack of its contents. Alex hurriedly scooped up her gun, shoving it in her waistband before eagerly grabbing her angel blade. Her grace instantly connected, and the angel smiled.

The door was flung open. “We lost him.” Dean stormed through, followed by Sam. They immediately went to the table and picked up their guns.

“So what’s the plan?”

“We stick together. We got to keep track of this thing. Who’s in it?”

Alex watched as Bobby and Rufus exchanged looks. She noticed Dean was staring at her, and she nodded in agreement with his words. “I’m in. I mean, it’s not like any of us are leaving.”

Sam grunted in agreement.

 

 **A** lex followed Bobby around the corner, wings pulled in tight. Her grace, still weak from the last search of the building, was resting just outside her body, occasionally flicking out to check the hallway. But she found nothing. Dean was in the lead, his flashlight bobbing about. Sam followed close behind, slightly hunched over like he always was in tense situations.

They entered a dark room, and Alex quickly checked the corners to make sure no life was hidden from view. Suddenly Sam lunged forward, pulling Dean back by the neck. “Whoa whoa whoa.” He dropped his brother and spun around as Bobby and Rufus raised their guns. “Hey hey hey hey hey.” He held up his hands in innocent. “Hold on. Look.” He turned his flashlight to the ground in front of Dean’s feet. Alex’s feathers ruffled at the sight of the trip wire.

The four hunters followed the wire up to the ceiling. “Well I’ll be damned.”

“Booby trap,” Bobby agreed.

Alex crept forward, looking up behind a hanging metal sign to see what looked to be a makeshift bomb. “How the hell did he have time to make that?” she wondered aloud as they carefully stepped over the wire.

Dean just grunted in frustration, not really answering her question. This time Sam took the lead as they walked down a long and narrow hall. When the Winchester reached the room on the other side, he paused, turning around to say something.

The metal door swung closed, and Sam disappeared from sight. “Hey hey!” Dean rushed forward.

“Dean?” Sam yelled. Alex saw the metal door shift slightly as Sam tried to pull it open, but it didn’t budge.

“Sam!” Dean slid to a stop by the door, flashlight dancing over the smooth metal surface, looking for a way in. “Dammit. Son of a bitch.”

“Dean?” Sam called again.

“Sam!” Dean turned to Alex. “Open it.”

Alex shook her head. “I can’t,” she insisted. “Dude, no. Not after I searched the entire building for your worm-infested ass. I need time to recover.”

Sam pounded on the door once to get their attention. “I’m gonna go around, okay?”

“All right,” Dean nodded. “Watch yourself.” He stepped back, motioning with his flashlight. “Come on.” He led them back down the hall. “There has to be another way.”

Alex jumped over the trip wire, eyes squinting as she searched for another hallway that could take them there. “This way,” she suggested, pointing down a dark hallway.

They were halfway down it when they heard a gunshot. “Sam?” Dean broke into a run behind her, and Alex followed, stretching her legs farther with each stride to try and keep up. Bobby and Rufus were close behind her when she burst through the plastic sheeting to see Dean sliding to a stop in front of Sam. “Sam!”

“Oh thank God.” Bobby stopped beside Dean, then suddenly his gun flew up, pointing straight at the younger Winchester. “Drop the gun, Sam.”

Sam slowly knelt down to place his Taurus on the ground. “It’s me,” he promised, straightening up, and for the first time Alex noticed Samuel’s body laying on the ground, a clear bullet hole straight through his head.

“That’s great, Sam,” Rufus promised. “Just gotta cuff you, uh, till we can be sure, okay? You understand, right?” He held up a large zip tie — Alex had no idea where these old hunters were getting these things — and slowly approached.

Sam compliantly turned around to Rufus could secure his hands. “It’s in him,” he still insisted.

“Are you sure?”

Sam looked over his shoulder at Bobby and nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I think.”

“You see anything come out of him . . . after he dropped?”

Sam looked thoughtful, then dropped his gaze to the ground. “I . . . I don’t think so,” he finally admitted.

“One way to find out.” Alex moved towards the body, kneeling down beside the dead hunter. The smell of blood was there, and underneath the unforgettable feeling of death. She reached for Samuel’s head and then jumped.

A hand came down on her shoulder, tugging her back. Alex jumped to her feet and spun around, anger at being startled in her eyes. “The hell?”

“Watch it.” Bobby nudged her out of the way. “Last thing we need is an angel being jumped by this thing.”

Alex snorted, but had to agree. She backed away, letting Bobby and Rufus take up the body. They carried it away, and Alex fell into step beside Sam, wings flattened against her body, still a bit shaken from being startled. “Did he come at you?” she queried, looking up into the hunter’s eyes.

Sam didn’t meet her gaze. “He didn’t attack me,” he said quietly. “He just . . . walked towards me. I told him to stop. He didn’t.”

“So you shot him.”

“I thought the . . . the _thing_ was in him.”

“Khan worm.” Alex let out a breath. “Well, good riddance to him anyways,” she muttered.

 

 **B** obby and Rufus laid the body out on the table in the break room. Bobby pulled out a swab from his bag and walked over to the body.

“Tell me you got something.” Dean stood on the other side of the body, arms crossed.

Bobby examined the swab and shook his head. “Nothing.”

“What?” Sam sounded genuinely confused. “So — so he wasn’t a monster when I ganked him?”

“One way to find out.” Rufus looked over at Bobby. “You got a cranial saw in your trunk?”

Bobby almost looked offended. “Of course.”

“Doesn’t leave home without it,” Alex added with a roll of her eyes.

Bobby moved towards the door, but Dean stopped him. “You’re not going alone.”

“Oh no, he won’t.” Rufus walked over to join them. “We’ll both grab some tools and see about getting some power in this place. And I want you and you to —” He cut himself off and started again in confusion, “ — okay, I want you and you to watch him and him and — alright. If anything crawls out of _anybody_ , somebody step on it.”

Alex smiled in amusement. “Will do,” she promised.

“Don’t worry,” Sam added. “I’ll watch Samuel and Dean’ll watch me.”

“And I’ll watch everybody,” Alex finished.

“Yeah, right.” And with that Rufus and Bobby left the room. Alex waited until their footsteps faded away before turning back to the two Winchesters. They stood their in silence, so she studied her shoes.

 “You did the right thing, you know,” Dean finally said.

“You mean you think I did, if that thing’s in him and I’m me. This thing’s playing three-card monte with us.”

“Well, I’m just gonna assume you’re you.”

“You wanna take this off, then?” Sam turned around slightly, showing off his bound wrists.

Dean shook his head. “Not until we get that sucker out of his walnut.”

At those words, Alex walked over to they body. The body was paler than before, and the blood around the bullet hole was dried. She hesitated, just studying it. She heard Sam and Dean continue their conversation. They talked for a long time, often with a period of silence between them, but the angel didn’t register any words. Eventually she placed her hand on Samuel’s forehead, letting her grace run down her arm and into the corpse, searching for any sign of life. Her eyes fell closed as she felt something move against her grace.

“Alex!” Hands shook her out of her thoughts, and Alex jumped, glaring up to see Bobby standing there.

“Dude. You need to stop doing that.”

“Then stop touching the body.” Bobby dropped the cranial saw onto the table. “If that thing’s in there, we don’t want it hiking a ride on you.”

Alex frowned and stepped back. “Well, in case you _were_ wondering, yeah. There’s something in there. I felt it myself.”

Bobby turned to Sam and Dean. “You boys want to take a breather?” he asked. When the brother’s shook their heads he frowned. “We’re about to crack open your grandfather’s grapefruit. Take a breather.”

Reluctantly, the two Winchesters left. Alex stepped back to give Bobby and Rufus some room to work. Rufus took up the cranial saw and began to unwind the cord. Then he stopped and held it up so Alex could easily see the fraying wires. “What is this?” He looked accusingly over at Bobby. “Have you been dumpster diving again?”

The hunter grew defensive. “What? It still works.”

“Yeah, right. I hope so.” Rufus walked over to the outlet, rolling his eyes.

Bobby looked over at Alex. “Give us a minute,” he said quietly, motioning toward the door with his head. Alex opened her mouth to protest, but the look she received stopped her in her tracks. She nodded and left. She pushed her grace out ahead to locate Sam and Dean just around the corner.

She had just walked up to them when she heard a large crash. Both Winchesters looked up, and Alex hesitated only a moment before taking back off down the hall. Dean somehow managed to pass her and she flapped her wings, trying to gain extra speed.

She reached the door just in time to see Samuel standing in front of it. Her angel blade slipped into her hands, ready to defend herself if he came through. However, he just walked away.

“Dean!” Sam held out his hands and Dean flicked open his knife as Alex tried to push her way in. The door was jammed. She watched as Rufus was flung across the room, and her grace sparked out angrily.

“Alex.” Dean pushed her behind him, and she watched as the Winchesters started to kick the door. She felt out with her grace, trying to see what was blocking their entry. Wood. Samuel had shoved something made of wood in between the door handles.

It splintered, and seconds later Alex felt electricity spiral through the air. Both Winchesters stopped what they were doing, and Alex pushed her way between them to peer in.

Samuel had his back against the wooden post, eyes open, body rigid. Alex could see the electricity coursing through his body as the muscles spasmed. However, her attention was drawn purely onto what was crawling out of his ear. Dean hadn’t been exaggerating; in the quick glimpse she had of the creature, she estimated it to be ten or so inches long, and she winced to imagine how that could have fit into someone’s ear.

The creature dropped to the ground and out of sight, and the Winchesters, with one last effort, kicked the door open, splintering the wood and letting them in.

“Bobby. You okay?” Sam rushed over to the fallen hunter, while Dean continued on shake Rufus awake. Alex stood off to the side, surveying the scene and feeling out with her grace. The worm — or whatever it was — was gone.

“Come on.” Dean helped Rufus to his feet, who stared at the four of them in blank surprise.

“This can’t be my afterlife cause the four of you are here,” he dryly joked as Dean stepped away. “The hell happened?”

“Well, when we left, he was dead on the table.”

“Yeah,” Bobby agreed, “until he wasn’t.” He rubbed his head with a sore grunt.

Rufus stared down at the body “So how’d he get double dead?”

“Bobby threw him against that.” Dean pointed to the frayed wire of the cranial saw. “I guess it was a live wire. It shorted, and he went ape. Then that thing crawled out of his ear.”

“At least we know what tickles it. Electricity.”

Sam nodded in agreement with Bobby. “Yeah. Now the question is, where’d it go?” He looked over at his brother. “You see?”

“No.”

“You two were down for the count,” Sam added discouragingly.

“Yeah, well, it either bailed or it’s in one of you two.”

“Or it’s in one of you three,” Rufus countered suspiciously.

“No, we were awake.”

“Did you have eyes on each other?”

“Yes.”

“Hundred percent of the time?”

Dean hesitated. “Define one hundred.”

“Like I said.”

“Alright,” Sam agreed, “why don’t we, uh, check for goo, right?”

The other three hunters nodded in agreement, and Alex watched in slight amusement as they all stuck their fingers in their ears. Rufus checked his fingers then looked over at Alex. “You waiting for something?” he asked suspiciously.

“No, no, don’t mind me.” Alex’s gaze focused on Dean for only a brief second before returning to Rufus. “Although it’s not often I see four grown men stick their fingers in their ears.”

“There a reason you’re not checking for goo yourself?” Bobby asked. “Maybe you got something to hide?”

Alex rolled her eyes. “Bobby, I can feel my own heart beating. Hell, I can feel _Sam’s_ heart from here. I think I’d feel it if there was shit in my ear. Or in my brain, for that matter.” Seeing their faces she rolled her eyes. “Fine. Fine. _Fine_.” She stuck a finger in each ear then held them out. “There. Happy? I’m me.”

“Unfortunately,” Bobby grumbled under his breath, but before Alex could protest he raised his voice. “It might be gone, then.”

“Or it’s wised up and covered its trail.”

Sam nodded. “All right. Then let’s settle this. One hundred percent.”

“And how are we going to do that?” Alex watched as Sam crossed over to the cranial saw wire and frowned. “Aw hell no.”

The Winchester unplugged the cable and then cut it in half, stripping off the plastic insulation. Dean plugged the wire back in and stepped back. “You’re live,” he told his brother.

Sam stepped backwards and cautiously held the wire out against the metal chair. Electricity sparked through the air, and Alex jumped, wings pulled in tightly around her at the thought of being electrocuted.

 “Okay. Alright.” Sam walked back over to the group of them, obviously unnerved, before slowly pressing the wire against Samuel’s neck. The dead hunter’s body jerked as the muscles tightened, but otherwise nothing happened. Sam pulled away with a small, “Yeah.”

Rufus leaned down to check the body’s ears. “Yeah, I’m not a doctor, but I’m gonna go ahead and call this one.”

“Yeah,” Sam repeated in agreement. “Okay, who wants to go first?”

Alex stepped back, but Dean shed his jacket and held out his arm. “Come on.”

“You sure?”

“Hurry up before I start thinking —” Dean cut off as Sam pressed the wire against his bother’s arm. “Son of a bitch!” he yelled, flinching away. “Whew!” He shook the pain off with a shake of his head before turning back to them, lips set in a grim line. “Awesome.” He looked over at his brother, holding out his hand. “Here, want me to —”

Sam suddenly touched the wire to his arm, eyes flying open in pain. Alex stepped back, afraid of her turn and totally confused as to why Sam would voluntarily do that to himself.

“Sam.” Dean motioned for the cable and Sam handed it to him. The eldest Winchester crossed the room to stand in front of Alex. “Okay, angel. Let’s go.”

“Aw hell no.” Alex stepped back, grace pulled in tight and away from the live wire. “IF you think you’re gonna touch me with that . . .”

“Alex.” Dean frowned down at her. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way.” The others advanced, and Alex shifted nervously.

With a glance over at Sam, Alex shrugged off her jacket and tossed it onto the chair. Then she rolled up her sleeve and held out her arm. “Fine,” she grimaced, knowing this was the only way to clear her name.

Energy crackled up her arm. Alex flinched, waiting for the pain, but nothing came. There was a tingling in her spine, then her grace fought back, exploding out of her body.

The lights died, and the room fell into darkness. Dean pulled the dead wire away, and Alex rolled her sleeve down in embarrassment as the back-up generators powered on. “Sorry,” she muttered, wings curling in around her at the looks she was receiving.

The wire flickered back to life, and Dean turned to Rufus. “You next?”

“Uh, whoa whoa whoa.” Rufus held up his hands in the shape of a ’T.’ “Um, no, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“No passes, Rufus. Come on.”

“I got a damn pacemaker.”

“Well you better hope it’s a damn good one.”

Bobby tipped his head. “Since when do you got a pacemaker?”

“Since Bush Jr.,” Rufus shot back. “Term one. I’m down three toes, too, FYI.” Seeing he wasn’t going to win he let out a heaving sigh. “Alright, come on. Make it quick.”

Dean held the wire against Rufus’ arm for several seconds, and the minute he pulled away Rufus let out the pain he had been holding in. “God!” he exclaimed, grasping his arm. “God! Dammit!” He stepped away, clenching his teeth as the pain faded. “Dammit!”

“You okay?”

“No I’m not okay! Give me that.” Rufus snatched the cable from Dean’s hands and turned to Bobby.

“Okay, all right. My turn.” Bobby’s gaze flickered nervously between the hunters. “Well, it ain’t inside me, so go ahead.” However, when Rufus stepped forward, Bobby stepped back.

“Alright, then just stand still, Bobby.”

Bobby continued to back up nervously. “Okay, sure.”

“I’ll make this quick.”

“No problem.” The hunter still backed up, and Alex’s wings flared up slightly in concern. She stepped forward, wary about Bobby’s actions.

“Alright. Let’s do this.”

Bobby kept shifting backwards, hands behind his back. “Okay, uh, just one second, Rufus.”  
 Rufus stopped approaching. “Just a second nothing, whatever you are.”

“I’m Bobby.”

“Bobby my ass.”

What happened next happened fast. Rufus reached out with a wire, and Alex saw a flash of silver as Bobby plunged a knife into Rufus’ chest. “No!” Alex sprang forward as Rufus fell backwards into Sam’s arms. Sam staggered under the weight, and Alex put her hands on the hunter’s chest, grace pulsing into him. But he was already dead. “No.” She spun around, and her wings flared out as lighting flashed in the room.

Bobby took a step back as Alex approached, drawing her angel blade from her side. A rough hand on her shoulder stopped her in her tracks, yanking her weapon out of her hand. Alex’s wings flared out in anger as Sam tossed the angel blade off into the corner. “Don’t hurt him,” he warned before sliding off to the side.

Alex stalked towards the hunter, wings flared up and curling over her head.

Bobby, now surrounded on all sides, shifted backwards warily, knife pointed at Dean, head swiveling between Sam and Alex. Suddenly Alex rushed forward, and the knife spun around, plunging into her diaphragm. She hissed at the intrusion, and then Bobby was pulled away, Sam’s arms wrapped around his neck. Dean stepped forward and punched the hunter in the face. Bobby’s eyes rolled back, unconscious.

“Get him into that chair,” Dean instructed before turning to Alex, his displeasure evident on his face. “Great,” he muttered. “You’ve been stabbed. Again.”

“I’m fine.” Alex straightened her shirt, anger still pulsing through her. “Just get that fucking thing out of him.”

Dean’s lips twitched slightly as he studied her face. Then he nodded. “There’s duct tape in the bag,” he instructed, pointing across the room. “Go get it for Sam.”

Alex nodded and stomped across the room. She dug through the duffle bag before pulling out the large roll of tape and handing it to Sam. Then she crossed to the other corner and picked up her angel blade. When she turned around she saw Sam and Dean watching her, wariness across her face. “What?” she growled out, slipping the blade down her hip where it locked in with her grace.

Sam turned back to situating Bobby in the chair, and Dean moved around the room, doing something of some probable importance. Alex sat down at the table, staring down at Rufus’ body. Another jolt of anger rushed through her wings. She hadn’t even had a chance to save him; he was dead before he hit the ground. The angel rubbed an eye with her hand, biting her lip. It wasn’t Bobby’s fault. It wasn’t.

Movement. Bobby was awake again. Alex turned in her set to watch Dean stand up. “Well, hey there little harpy.” Dean held the cable in one hand, and it let out several sparks as Dean held it against Bobby’s neck, watching as the hunter writhed before pulling away.

Sam looked thoughtful before speaking. “Why do you keep talking about harpies?”

“What?” Dean looked back at his brother, who glanced between him and Bobby. “I don’t,” Dean added. “Shut up.” Sam cocked an eyebrow, and Dean frowned. “Shut up.” He turned his attention back to the monster-possessed hunter, leaning over to look him in the eyes. “Now, don’t you even think about shagging ass out of here, cause we got every crack in this room sealed. So get comfy.”

“I am comfy” Bobby retorted, voice deep and gravelly, obviously not his own. “It’s nice in here. And you love this guy, don’tcha? You really want to kill me and take him with me? Haven’t you lost enough _pals_ today?”

At those words Alex stood up, expelling a harsh breath through her nose.

Bobby grinned, clear that he had struck a nerve. “What’d ya gonna do, angel? Burn me out?”

Dean grabbed Bobby’s chin, forcing the monster’s attention back onto him. “We’ll do what we have to do.” He let go of him and stepped back. “Now, we got some questions for you, so you can either play ball, or we can fry up a little shrimp on the barbie.” Bobby was still staring at Alex, and Dean stepped into his line of vision. “Hey!” he snapped. He turned to Alex. “Sit down.”

“Dean —”

“Sit. Down.”

“Ask,” Bobby growled out. “Been waiting for you to ask.”

“What the hell’s that suppose to mean?”

“I’ve got nothing to hide.”

Sam stood up. “What are you?”

“You haven’t got a name for me yet. I’m new around here. Eve cooked me up herself.” Bobby kept swaying his head back and forth, and Alex shifted restlessly. That plus the voice made the whole situation seem . . . creepy.

Dean stepped forward, shoving the wire against the creature’s neck for several seconds before pulling away. “Who is she, this Eve bitch?”

“The mother of all of us, the end of all of you. By the time she’s done, there’ll be more creatures than humans. You’ll live in pens. We’ll cook up your young and call them veal.”

“And what’s your deal in this? I mean, how’s jumping a few truckers gonna help?”

 “You think I’m here to mess with a couple cannery workers? We led you here.”

“Why?”

“She has a message for you.”

“Oh, yeah? What’s that?”

“You’re all going to die. She’s pissed. She’s here. And it’s gonna be nothing but pain from here on in.”

Alex left her spot on the table. “And this message was meant for us?” she asked, frowning. “Specifically? What exactly does she have against us, huh?” She looked over at the Winchesters for support. “I mean, we’ve never even met her.”

“Not you specifically,” the creature scoffed. “You. Hunters. The ones who killed her children.” He held Alex’s gaze, eyes unblinking. “You’re gonna die just like them.”

Dean had enough. “Yeah, well, here’s my response.” He shoved the wire against Bobby’s neck, and the creature writhed in agony. Alex watched as black goo dripped from the hunter’s nose and ears.

Sam stood up. “Dean.” He held out a hand to stop his brother, lowering his voice . “How much more do you think he can take?”

“You can’t kill me,” the creature growled, head swaying back and forth as it stared up at Sam. “Not without taking him with me.”

“Well . . .” Dean looked over at Sam, “We’ll just have to do what Bobby would want us to do.” At those words Sam picked up the duct tape and wrapped it around Bobby’s mouth and ears. “No way out now, slug-o. Bobby, hang in there.” And with that, Dean pressed the live wire against Bobby’s neck.

The hunter’s body stiffened and jerked, and Alex approached in worry when she saw black goo leaking out from behind the duct tape, from his ears, his nose, and his mouth. “Dean . . .”

Sam turned away, unable to watch, and Alex stepped back until the hunter slumped over, limp. Dean pulled the wire away and Alex hurried over to him, ripping the duct tape off of his face. The smell of burnt flesh filled her nose, and she jerked back when something fell out past her hand from his ear. She watched as the Khan worm hit the ground, curling up. Alex whipped out her angel blade and stabbed it, leaving the creature pinned to the floor before turning back to the hunter. “Bobby?” She reached around to feel the back of his neck, still hot, until she located the burned flesh. She pushed her grace against it, cooling down the skin and healing what little she could.

“Bobby!” Sam knocked Alex out of the way and took the hunter’s head in his hands. “Bobby!” He looked up at his brother. “He’s not breathing.”

“Bobby? Hey!”

“He’s alive.” Alex took his pulse just to be sure, but she could feel his heart beating, slow but steady. “He’s in shock.”

“Bobby?” Sam took off all of the duct tape and threw it aside.

The hunter groaned, not opening his eyes, but it gave the the Winchesters enough piece of mind to relax. “Oh thank God.” Dean hurried away and unplugged the wire. “He’s alive.”

“Speaking of,” Alex put in, “we’ve got three dead bodies and the sun’s starting to come up.”

Her words seemed to shake the Winchesters back into reality, and Sam and Dean glanced at each other before nodded. “Yeah,” Dean agreed. “Just . . . give us a minute. We’ll get there.”

 

 **A** lex sat perched on a headstone, watching the three hunters several feet off. They were standing around the freshly-turned dirt in a local cemetery, having just buried Rufus Turner. Samuel and Gwen were burned several miles off in an abandoned orchard just on the other side of town, but Rufus had always wanted to be buried. The angel sighed, pulling her knees up to her chest. Three dead. In less than eight hours, three people she knew had been murdered. Her attention turned to the living hunters with a sigh. Bobby was probably telling that story again; the one about how Rufus saved his life. The one he always told her late at night, when he always had had too much to drink. Part of her wanted to go up and join them, but she kept her distance. Funerals weren’t really her thing; she had been to far too many as it was.

She turned her eyes upwards, watching a hawk circle in the sky above. Usually she would feel pain. Sadness, regret, something along those lines. But this time. The angel’s wingtips flicked in irritation. She just felt angry. And knowing that just made her even angrier.

A gentle hand rested on her shoulder, and Alex looked up to see Dean. “Hey.”

“Hey,” she echoed, looking upwards just in time to see the hawk dive out of sight.

“We’re gonna hit the road.” Dean glanced over his shoulder at Bobby. “He’s probably gonna be a bit longer. If you want to wait, you can go with him. Otherwise I think we’re all headed in the same direction.”

Alex nodded, pulling herself to her feet. “I’ll go with you guys,” she agreed. “He deserves some time alone.”

Dean nodded, and Alex cast one more glance at the old hunter. He was standing in front of the grave, a bottle of whiskey in one hand. Her wings drooped in sympathy, and she turned to follow Dean away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this chapter was a pretty run-of-the-mill episode for Alex, but oh well. So the next chapter will be posted next year (I hate myself already for making that joke lol), and I'll have to admit it might be my favorite chapter of the entire season so far. 
> 
> Also, one last thing, and maybe you've noticed, but sometimes, when transferring the chapter from Pages to AO3, sometimes there won't be a double space between two different paragraphs/dialogue. I don't know why it does this, and I only started noticing it when I started transferring the story over to Wattpad. I'll try to look for them, but just be aware that it's a glitch. 
> 
> \-- B


	15. My Heart Will Go On

**December 21st, 2011**

**A** lex sat on the study’s couch, legs folded beneath her, gaze focused on the study. She bit her lip in frustration as Bobby Singer finished off yet another bottle of whiskey.

“Say something.” Sam’s whisper had her turning her attention to the two Winchesters who were both leaning against the wall to her left.

“No, you,” Dean mouthed back, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“No,” Sam insisted. “You.”

She watched in amusement as the Dean held up a fist. Sam hesitated, shaking his head, but when Bobby opened up another bottle, he held out his fist as well. _One two three. Shoot._ Dean with the scissors, Sam with the paper. Typical. Sam stared at his brother’s hand as he processed what exactly had happened before looking over at Alex. She shrugged, not willing to get in the middle of that. Instead, she just shot him a thumbs up.

“Uh . . .”

“You two just gonna stand there like the ugly girl at the prom, or are you gonna pitch in?” Bobby finally asked, and Alex stifled a laugh when the brothers exchanged surprised looks. “This so-called Eve, mother of whatever, ain’t gonna gank herself.” When nobody moved, he looked up. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Bobby,” Dean began, “you haven’t slept in days.”

“I sleep,” the hunter defended crossly. “What are you, my wife now?” He looked back down at his books.

“I’m just saying, that, you know, taking five might be a good thing,” the Winchester put as politely as he could.

Bobby, however, just scoffed. “For whom?”

“Look, Bobby it — it was tough for all of us, seeing Rufus go like that.” Sam approached, but stopped after only a few steps, glancing over at Alex.

“You think this —?” Bobby firmly shook his head. “This ain’t about Rufus.”

“Bobby, he wasn’t just a poker buddy.”

“You know when I knew Rufus was done for? The day I met him. The only question was who first — him or me? Now, you want to stand there and therapise, or you want to get me some coffee?” He returned his gaze to his books. “Make it Irish.”

Alex watched as Dean threw up his hands in surrender, and he and Sam walked into the kitchen. Alex took the chance to stand up and walk over to the old hunter.

“What do you want?” he huffed, looking up. “If you’re gonna say a dam thing about —”

“Need any help?” Alex asked instead, pulling up a chair. “Two eyes are better than one — uh. Wait —”

“No thanks.”

The girl stopped what she was doing, staring at him. “Excuse me?”

“If this is something your boyfriend put you up to . . .”

Alex pushed the chair back into place. “Fine. You know what? Fine. I was just trying to help.” She stalked out of the room.

“—there’s a job,” Sam was saying as Alex pulled herself up onto the counter next to him.

“Ooh, really?” Dean looked interested. “What you got?”

Sam pulled a newspaper article out out of his jacket pocket. “Look. Chester, Pennsylvania. Three people got kicked off in the last week, all freaky. Last guy got karate chopped by his garage door. And all of these are blood relatives.”

Dean quickly scanned the paper, interest growing. “What are you thinking, family curse?”

“Could be.”

Dean turned around to look over at Bobby. “Hey grumpy —” he yelled, but immediately cut off to find Bobby standing behind him. “You, uh—?”

“I don’t want to do crap,” Bobby stated firmly. “Leave me alone. Just, get out of my house, all of you. You’re driving me nuts.” He took the coffee from Sam and walked back into the study.

“Bobby —”

“Now!” The hunter turned around, insistence in his voice. Then he made his way back to his desk. “For the love of Pete.”

Sam took the newspaper back from Dean, and Alex followed them out of the house, handing Sam her duffle bag that was laying by the door. She let out a long breath as they walked towards the car. “Well, _that_ went well.”

Dean grunted in agreement as he threw his bag into the trunk of his Mustang.

“You think we should wait until she gets back?” Sam asked his brother as he got into the car.

“Dude, she just called from the road, said she’d be back in two shakes,” Dean argued. “You really want to sit around and smell him stew in his own juices?”

Sam frowned before shaking his head.“Yeah, yeah. Drive.”

 

 **A** lex rolled over in the dark room, displaced for a moment before realizing where she was. Motel room, Indiana. They had stopped for the night, and she had gone to bed. What had woken her up?

She heard short, labored breaths coming from beside her. Alex sat up, reaching out with her hand. Soft hair met her fingers, and she trailed them down to Sam’s shoulder. “Bad dream?” she whispered, careful not to wake Dean.

As her eyes adjusted she could see the Winchester nod. “It’s nothing,” he whispered back, running a large hand through his hair.

“Jess?”

Sam didn’t answer, and Alex shifted closer, offering comfort. “Go back to sleep,” she soothed. “It was just a nightmare.” She laid back down, feeling the bed shift as Sam did the same. She turned on her side to face him, propping her head up with an elbow. “You wanna taco bout it?” she punned playfully.

Sam mimicked her, turning to face her. Instead of answering, however, he reached out, his large hand cupping her cheek as he leaned forward, brushing a kiss across her lips.

Alex kissed him for only a few seconds before pulling back. “That’s not what I asked for,” she teased.

“It’s the only way to get you to shut up,” the hunter grumbled back good-naturedly, rolling on his back to stare up at the ceiling. “It was nothing.”

“Mm-hmm.” Alex didn’t believe him. She rolled onto her side facing away from him, scooting backwards until her back rested against his side. “If you say so.”

“Well I say so.” Sam shifted once again, wrapping an arm around her waist and drawing her back into his chest. His warm breath stirred her hair, and Alex shifted her head until she found a position where he wasn’t breathing directly into her ear. She lay there until the hunter’s breathing slowed, finally allowing her eyes to fall closed. She let her breathing fall in line with his, drifting off into sleep.

 

 **T** he room was bright. Alex buried her head deep into her pillow, whining out a loud protest at the light. She heard a door open, and a small huff of amusement. “You better get up. Dean’ll be back with breakfast in a few minutes.”

Alex rolled over to look at Sam, a frown across her face. “You better not have used up all the hot water,” she warned.

Sam was standing in the bathroom doorway, a white towel wrapped loosely around his hips. “If you had gotten up earlier you could have joined me.” Without waiting for her to respond he disappeared back into the bathroom.

Alex muttered out a, “cute,” before throwing back the covers. She quickly got dressed, pulling on a shirt just as the door opened and Dean stepped through, carrying a plastic bag with three styrofoam take-out boxes and three coffees. “Morning, sunshine.”

“Hey, D.” Alex slid into a chair at the table as the older Winchester put the food down. “Whatcha got?”

“Pancakes. Eggs.” Dean pulled out the three boxes and put them around the table. “Syrup.” He dropped the bag in the center of the table. “And, uh, here.” He handed her a coffee cup.

“Thanks.” Alex heard the bathroom door open as she reached for her breakfast.

She had just gotten the lid open when gentle hands rested on her shoulders and soft lips pressed against her cheek. “Morning.”

“Hey.” Alex watched as Sam sat down at the table, fully dressed. “Pancakes and eggs.”

“Huh.” Sam unwrapped one of his plastic forks, stabbing lightly at his pancakes. “Okay.”

“So,” Dean slid into his seat as well, pulling his breakfast close, “if we leave in the next hour, we can get up to Chester by 9pm or so. Get a couple of rooms, check out the garage.”

Sam nodded in agreement with his brother’s plan. “Yeah. Sounds good.”

“I’d be down with that,” Alex affirmed, spearing a pancake with her fork.

“Huh,” Dean grunted. “Well, I’m glad you two are in agreement about something.”

“Oh please.” Alex looked over at Sam, and eyebrow cocked. “What are you talking about? We never fight.”

Dean was having none of their shit. “You fought yesterday in the car.”

“Well that’s cause _someone_ doesn’t have a sense of humor.” Alex playfully kicked Sam under the table, who just rolled his eyes.

 

**Chester, Pennsylvania**

**O** ne long car ride later, Alex found herself standing outside a darkened home, flashlight in hand. “Anybody home?” she whispered up at Sam.

The hunter shook his head. “Victim lived alone.” He walked over to the front door and turned the knob; it opened easily. “Come on.” He led the way through the house and into the garage.

Alex did a quick sweep of the area with her flashlight, shaking her head. “They got this place cleaned up pretty fast,” she remarked, eyes focusing on the clearly bleached section of the concrete before continuing on.

Dean walked over to the workbench, EMF detector held out in front of him. He shook his head, pocketing the device. “Not a bleep.”

“Well, not a vengeful spirit, then.” Sam walked over to the garage door, flashlight darting over the concrete. Dean turned on the workbench light, and Alex flicked off her own flashlight. “Hey.” She turned at her boyfriend’s voice, head tipped as he held up what appeared to be a thread. “Huh.”

“Whatcha got?” Dean walked over to them, flashlight focusing on Sam’s hand. “What is that, Christmas tinsel?”

“Dunno.” Sam brushed past them, and Alex watched as he picked up a ceramic flower pot and rubbed the string over it. Her lips twisted into a frown to see a golden streak left behind. Sam looked up at his brother. “It’s gold.”

Alex shook her head. “You’re such a nerd,” she teased. Sam frowned down at her, and she grinned.

“You mean like, gold gold?” Dean asked, not sure if he heard his brother right.

Sam nodded. “Why would a handyman have gold thread laying around his garage?”

 “Rumpelstiltskin?” Alex suggested.

“Yeah. Who’s the nerd now?” Sam shot back lightly. Alex stuck out her tongue.

“I don’t know.” Dean shook his head and walked back over to the workbench, turning off the light. “There is definitely a skeleton in this guy’s closet. I mean, accidents don’t just happen accidentally.” Sam looked at Dean, and Alex snorted in amusement. The hunter frowned. “You know what I mean.”

“Yeah,” Sam lied. “All right. How about tomorrow I’ll go check family records, you go with next of kin?”

Dean nodded. “Yeah.”

“But, uh, sleep first, right?” Alex looked up at Dean, an eyebrow raised when she saw his face. “Really? After driving all day, huh? Well, _I_ want some sleep, thank you very much.”

The eldest Winchester shook his head. “You know you’re bossy, right?”

“I’ve been told that, yeah.”

 

 **T** hey were at the motel in less than five minutes. “You guy are gonna want a separate room, right?” Dean asked as he got out of the car. Sam grunted in affirmation, and Dean disappeared.

Alex leaned over the seat, resting her head against Sam’s neck. “After two and a half years does he really still need to ask that?” she teased.

“It’s more like one and a half,” Sam corrected. “I mean, soulless me wasn’t really me.”

“No. He really wasn’t.” Alex rested her chin on her folded arms, tipping her head slightly to press a quick kiss on his cheek before pulling away. “Okay, fine. I guess that sounds more accurate.” Sam got out of the Mustang and Alex followed, drifting into her own thoughts. It had been after the werewolf case down in Texas — after she had almost _died_ — that Sam had finally broken down and admitted his feelings. And Alex — well, she had had a crush on the Winchester from the moment she had met him.

“Pip?” Sam soft voice pulled her out of her thoughts. “Come on.” He held up a key, and Alex looked around to see Dean already meandering off towards his own room.

She followed Sam over to their door and pushed her way inside. “Huh.” She did a quick survey of the room before nodding. “Not bad.” She took her bag from Sam and tossed it onto the far bed. “Well, I’m headed to bed.” She kicked off her shoes and unzipped her bag, digging through to find something to wear. She heard the sound of a chair sliding across the floor and glanced over her shoulder to see that Sam had sat down at the table. With a confused frown she tossed her shirt onto the bed and pulled on one of Sam’s older t-shirts before walking back over to him. She wrapped her arms around his neck, leaning over his shoulder to see what he was doing.

Sam leaned his head slightly, hair brushing against her ear. “Thought you were going to bed.”

Alex grunted in affirmation, not moving away. She watched as the Winchester pulled up google before sighing. “Promise you’ll join me at a reasonable hour?”

“Yeah. I’m just gonna check on thing.”

Alex sighed again. “Okay.” She walked over to the near bed and crawled under the covers, curling up around one of the pillows. She heard Sam move about but didn’t look up. She drifted into a light sleep.

 

 **T** he bed was empty when she awoke. Alex rolled over to see Sam sitting at the kitchen table, laptop on. She stood up and walked over to him. “Morning handsome,” she mumbled, kissing him on the cheek. “How long you been up?”

Sam looked up, then down at his watch. “All night, I guess,” he admitted.

Alex frowned. “I thought you said you were going to get some sleep.”

“Yeah, that didn’t really pan out.” Sam motioned to the bag that sat on the table. “Dean brought in breakfast.”

Alex sat down. A cup of coffee stood beside her, and the hunter took a small sip as she sat down. “So Dean’s up?”

“He’s been up for a while.” Sam joined her at the table, pulling his laptop close. “He went down to the next of kin’s office a few minutes ago.”

“Huh. Okiedokie.” Alex peered inside the bag to see two Egg McMuffins and some hash browns. She grunted in approval; hash browns were good. “So are we just hanging around here today?”

“Probably.” Her boyfriend didn’t even look up at her words, too focused on what was on his screen. Alex huffed and stood up, deciding to get dressed before eating. She pulled on a pair of jeans and a black shirt before digging through Sam’s bag and slipping on one of his blue plaid shirts. It was huge in all respects, but it smelled like Sam. Alex liked it. She returned to the table, awkwardly rolling up the giant sleeves before unwrapping her breakfast.

She ate in silence, occasionally glancing over at Sam, who seemed completely involved in whatever he was doing. Eventually his phone rang, and he shut his laptop before answering. “Hey. Find anything?” He listened for a few seconds before letting out a huff. “Not much. Great grandparents born in Calabria. Emigrated 1912. Been here ever since.” A pause before, “Ha. Four generations of white picket fence.” He listened for only a few more seconds before he hung up.

Alex had by this point moved over to the bed, eyes focused on the tv. She heard the sound of a chair being scraped agains the floor, and then Sam was sitting behind her. “You should watch less tv,” he teased. “You’re gonna rot your brain.”

Alex snorted. “Who are you, my mom?” Something was dropped in front of her, and she picked up the ever-familiar book she and Sam were reading. _Tale of Two Cities_. “You want to read? Now?”

“We haven’t had a lot of free time lately,” Sam pointed out, reaching around her to hold the book as well. He opened the it to the marked page. “I thought you liked it.”

“I do, but I’m watching my show.”

There was a click, and then the tv was off. “No you’re not.”

 

 **A** lex leaned back into Sam, silently willing him to hurry up. She had already finished the page they were on, but couldn’t move on until he had finished as well. “Sam,” she pouted as the time seemed to stretch on forever.

“Shh,” the hunter reprimanded gently, fingers running down the worn edges of the page. “I’m almost done.” He looked up as Alex squirmed again, caged in by his strong arms. “The chapter’s almost through.” And with that, he turned the page.

Alex turned her attention back to the book, eagerly reading the last half page. She finished in a minute and leaned back against Sam, waiting for him to finish. When he didn’t, she frowned, tipping her head up to nudge at his neck. “Sam.”

“Shh. I’m reading.”

Alex wiggled back further into his lap, knowing full well he was purposefully drawing this out. “Sammy,” she repeated. “Come on.” She kissed his neck, feeling his stubble brush against her cheek. “You need to shave.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.” Sam closed the book, threading his fingers through hers. The other hand came to rest on her left side, sliding under her shirt to trace the large scars that lay there. Alex flinched, not fond of the raised white lines. They were from the werewolf attack down in Texas, and they were ugly. She didn’t mind looking at them, but hated when Sam touched them.

“Sam . . .”

“I like them,” the hunter promised; however, he moved away, warm hand coming to rest on her stomach instead. “I think they’re beautiful.”

Alex blushed, outwardly ignoring his compliment. She shifted in the hunter’s lap, twisting so she could kiss him once on the lips before glancing back at the clock. “You think we’ll go out for lunch when Dean gets back?”

Sam kissed her for a second before answering. “You had breakfast an hour ago,” he teased, tugging on her bottom lip.

“Mm.” Alex waited for him to let go before speaking again. “Well, I’m hungry again.” She twisted out of his lap and moved up to the headboard, leaning against it as the tv turned on.

“You’re always hungry.” Sam followed, leaning beside her.

After a minute or so, however, he shifted, laying down. Alex ran a hand through his hair as he yawned, and he hesitantly rested his head on her stomach. His eyes fell closed, and Alex continued toying with his hair as he drifted into a light sleep.

 

 **T** he door opened, and Dean stepped through. Alex looked up at the hunter, her hand stilling in her boyfriend’s hair. “Hey,” she smiled. Her voice stirred Sam, whose hazel eyes flickered open. Seeing his brother he sat up, running his hands through his messy hair.

“Hey.” Dean tossed his jacket onto the back of the chair. “So, find anything?”

Sam shook his head, a large yawn stopping him from saying anything else.

“Ah.” Dean raised an eyebrow. “So hardly working it is.”

“Yeah, well, he could’ve been doing something other than sleeping if he had actually gone to bed,” Alex added, poking Sam in the side.

He didn’t even flinch, but managed to capture her hand before she could pull away, threading his fingers through hers and brushing a kiss across her wrist. “I was working,” he defended before dropping her hand and getting up. “You find anything else?” he asked his brother.

Dean shook his head. “Nothing. Dude basically threw me out before I could get an word in edgewise.”

“Huh.” Alex sat up, throwing her legs over the side of the bed so she could face Dean. “That’s weird. Did you offend him or something?”

The hunter shook his head. “Just asked him the routine questions about his family tree,” he insisted. He began listing them off on his fingers. “Uh, violent deaths, if they ever owned a slave, links to the Nazis. If his grandma ever pissed off a gypsy.”

Alex huffed in amusement. “Wow. You got all the way to the gypsy question, huh? Nice.”

Dean nodded in agreement and leaned against the table with a huff. “Now what?”

“I don’t know.” Sam picked  _The Tale of Two Cities_  up off of the bed and dropped it onto the table beside Dean. “Wait until something happens?”

“Hit the morgue?” Alex suggested. “Ooh. How about lunch?”

“How about lunch and then the morgue?” Sam rephrased.

“You really thing there’s gonna be anything on the bodies?”

“Hey. It’s the best we got.” Sam pulled on his coat and slipped on his shoes. “So unless you just want to sit on your thumbs for a while . . .”

Dean shook his head. “No, uh, sure. Sure. Lunch it is.”

 

 **A** lex wrapped her arms around Sam’s neck, burying her head in his hair to keep out the biting wind. “Where we going?” she heard him ask, moving forward.

Alex wrapped her legs tighter around his waist, peering up to look up at the parking lot. “Morgue, right?” She looked down at Dean. “You look so tiny,” she joked, resting her chin on her boyfriend’s shoulder.

Dean just rolled his eyes. “Whatever, princess.” He led the way across the street, and Sam followed.

Alex hit him playfully in the chest, pointing after Dean. “Onward, Moose!” she yelled, pressing herself closer as Sam picked up speed. They reached the car first and Sam dropped her. Alex leaned against the car beside him, leaning against his warm shoulder as they waited for Dean to catch up. He wordlessly unlocked the car and got behind the wheel. Alex slid into the backseat, and as soon as Sam closed his door they were off.

 

 **“E** w.” Alex looked down at the decapitated body, a frown on her face. “That’s a nice cut. Like a really dull guillotine.” She pulled on some rubber gloves as she looked up at the Winchesters. “What?”

Dean shook his head. “Nothing. I, uh —”

“It’s cool how you’re so into this kinda stuff,” Sam covered.

“Yeah,” Dean agreed. “You know, dead stuff.”

Alex rolled her eyes, turning her attention back to the body. “They say a garage door did this, huh?” She let out a snort of amusement. “Well, it didn’t go all the way through.” She pointed to the cracked spine and tissue at the back of the neck. “I mean, a clean cut would have severed the spine here.” She touched one of the vertebrae. “Not here.” She moved her finger up an inch to where the actual spine ended.

“So . . .”

“So the head must’ve fallen off when they were moving the body.” Alex shrugged, pulling away.

Silence. Then Dean let out a noise. “Is that even relevant?”

“No, not really.” Alex turned her attention to the head. “Just an interesting fact. I mean, seriously? There is no way a garage door can completely behead someone. Not enough force, not enough weight.”

“So you’re saying . . .”

“This dude was _really_ unlucky. Normally that would probably just crush his windpipe. So unless his garage door was sharpened, this is just a really bad case of luck.”

“Could be witchy,” Sam put out there. “Someone looking for revenge.”

“Yeah. Possible.” Alex pulled the sheet back up over the body as the door opened and Dr. Young stepped through.

He cleared his throat, and both Sam and Dean turned to look at him. “We have another body coming in,” he told them. “I, uh, in case you were curious. A woman was strangled by a photocopier.”

Alex saw the Winchesters exchange looks. “Was she by any chance related to this man?” Dean vaguely gestured back towards the body.

“Uh . . . no? I don’t think so.”

Alex pulled off her gloves and tossed them into the trash behind her before circling around to stand beside Sam. “Well, I’m done here.”

Dean nodded. “I think that’s all for now,” he agreed. “Thanks for your time. If, uh, if anything else weird happens, give me a call.” He reached into his jacket and pulled out one of his cards.

“Sure. No problem.” The doctor escorted them out of the morgue, and Alex slid into the backseat of the Mustang.

 

 **S** he found herself back at the motel within twenty minutes, sprawled out across the bed. She watched as Sam unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it somewhere across the room, leaving him in only a light grey v-neck. She sat up, crossing her legs as she watched him walk over to the fridge and pull out a bottle of water.

Seeing that he was watching her, the hunter turned. “So. You gonna join me or what?”

Alex snorted. “Sorry bud. Too busy with, uh, tv and stuff.”

“Might do you good to get off your lazy ass.” Sam set the water down on the table as he shucked off his shoes and socks, tossing them over by the door.

“Hm.” Alex watched his muscles flex as he moved before smirking. “Maybe later, big boy.” She winked, then threw her head back laughing when Sam just shook his head.

“Cute.” The hunter dropped to the ground, and Alex shifted so she was leaning back on the bed, able to watch both the tv and Sam. He did several pushups before shifting under the table, hands gripping the edge as he did a handful of inverted rows. The girl watched him out of the corner of her eye; she wasn’t a huge fan of working out, but it was always interesting to watch Sam.

 

 **A** fter a ten or so minutes he waved her over. “Come ‘ere.”

He dropped to the ground again, and Alex did as he asked, familiar to his workout routine. She folded her legs and sat down on his back as he pushed up off of the ground. She mindlessly drew light patterns on his shoulders, running a hand through his hair when she felt his arms shake slightly with the effort. “I’m gonna braid your hair later,” she told him casually.

“Yeah,” Sam grunted out. “Good luck with that.” He lowered himself to the ground then pushed them back up.

“Challenge accepted.”

When Sam had finished Alex climbed off, returning to her spot on the bed. She watched him get to his feet and walk over to the bathroom door. He reached up, fingers feeling along the molding for a solid grip. Finding nothing, he dropped his hands back to his side. “Guess I’m gonna take a shower,” he told her.

“Yeah, you smell.” Alex watched as he stripped off his shirt, then flinched as he playfully flung it at her. She let out an indignant cry as it hit her legs, but when she looked up, the bathroom door was already closed behind him. She kicked the sweaty shirt off of the bed, settling back down into the pillows to finish her show.

 

 **S** he heard the water turn off, and a few minutes later the bathroom door opened and Sam stepped out. He was only wearing the jeans he had taken in there, and he walked over to his bag and dug through it. Then he looked over at Alex, a small frown on his face. “I wanted to wear that shirt, you know.”

Alex rolled up the baggy sleeves, pouting up at the hunter. “I got there first,” she insisted. “So suck it, Winchester.” Sam huffed in amusement and pulled out another shirt, and Alex rolled her head back in disbelief. “Oh, come on, man!” she exclaimed. “That thing is ugly as fuck.”

Sam pulled on the white shirt, rolling up the sleeves so Alex could see the red pattern underneath. “You brought this upon yourself,” he warned, joining her on the bed.

Alex tugged at the hem, grunting in disgust. “I’m gonna burn that,” she warned.

“Yeah right. Give me the remote.”

“No.”

“Either I take the remote or the shirt.” Sam reached over her for the remote, but Alex insistently slapped at his hands away. She cried out as Sam suddenly dropped all of his weight over her, pinning her down as he snatched the remote off of the nightstand. He began flipping through the channels, and Alex crossed her arms childishly.

“Sam,” she protested, leaning into him. “I was watching that.”

“You’ve watched way to much tv.” Sam held the remote out of reach, and Alex crawled into his lap to try and take it back. A hand wrapped around her waist, keeping her still as she grasped as thin air. Alex let out a loud whine, giving up and falling against his chest. “You’re stupid,” she muttered, eyes closing as a hand came to rest on her back.

She heard Sam settle on a show before his breath stirred her hair. “I know.”

 

 **D** ean came in a few minutes later, and he and Sam sat at the kitchen table and talked. Alex curled up in a blanket and pulled out her favorite _Supernatural_ book, turning to a marked page and began to read. She pulled up the hem of the shirt over her nose, breathing in Sam’s scent as she continued, turning the page.

A hand brushed across her leg, and Alex looked up to see Dean standing in front of her. She smiled up at him, shirt dropping back to around her neck. “Hey-o.”

“Hey.” Dean sat down beside her. “We’re gonna go check out that strangled woman’s office tonight. You in?”

“Yeah, that’d be cool.” Alex nodded, dropping her book onto her lap. “Why? Do we think she’s related?”

“Dunno. Sam’s checking out her family tree right now.” Dean gestured vaguely over at Sam Winchester. “You want to help?”

“Meh.” However, Alex tossed her book onto the nightstand and walked over to her boyfriend. “Hey.” She casually kissed him on the cheek before looking at his screen. “Finding anything?”

An arm snaked around her waist, pulling her close as Sam shook his head. “Nothing yet. Although,” he added in a low voice, “you know what would be nice?” He looked up at her, and Alex watched as his teeth teased at his bottom lip.

“What?” she played along, softening his voice to match his tone.

“If you, you know, sat your ass down and helped?”

“You’d like that wouldn’t you?” Alex extracted herself from his arms and sat down at the table.

“Wow.” Dean plopped down at the other chair. “You two think you’re adorable, don’t you?”

“Oh, I _am_ adorable,” Alex shot back lightheartedly. Sam just let out an amused noise.

 

 **T** he door swung open and Alex flicked on her flashlight, following Dean into the darkened room. The law building was small; one floor, simple lock on the door. More than easy to get in. She followed Sam off to the left, leaving Dean to continue on. “Anne Witting,” she heard the hunter say. “You’re sure she’s not a Russo, second cousin or some shit like that?”

Sam shook his head. “No. I checked the records twice. No relation.”

“There goes our witch theory.”

Dean agreed. “Well, if this isn’t a family curse, then what the hell is it?”

“You got me. I got nothing.” Sam stopped by a filing cabinet and shuffled through a drawer. Alex sat down at a desk and pulled open the bottom drawer, not really sure what she was looking for.

“Hold on.” Dean’s voice had her looking up in time to see the hunter stoop over. She stood up to see him hold up something long and thin. “Not nothing.”

Alex followed Sam over to his brother. “Is that . . ?”

“Yeah.” Dean handed the golden thread to Sam. “What the hell is going on?”

“I have no idea.” Sam shook his head, holding the thread in the light of his flashlight. He shook his head again, handing it back to Dean. “No idea,” he reaffirmed.

“So we hit the books,” Alex suggested. “I mean, how hard can it be to find something that leaves behind golden thread, eh?”

Dean grunted in agreement, while Sam just shined his flashlight in her face. “ ‘Eh?’ ” he repeated, amused. “What are you, Minnesotan?”

“Yeah, actually. That’s exactly what I am, don’t you know,” she added in her best Minnesotan accent. Before either could respond she motioned towards the door. “So we leaving or what?”

 

 **T** he next hour found her once again on the bed, her back pressed against Sam’s legs, head propped up on an elbow as she stared blankly at her computer screen. “My money’s still on Fate,” she finally said, gently kicking Sam in the side.

“Could still be Ariadne,” Sam rebutted, nudging her head with his boot-clad foot. Alex stuck out her tongue in retaliation, and the hunter rolled his eyes. “Yeah. Thanks. Real mature.”

Alex rolled onto her back. “This motel is yucky,” she finally said. “Who puts white and green tile floors in, huh?”

Sam huffed in amusement. “Apparently the White Star Motel.”

“No,” Dean said, and Alex glanced over to see that he was still on the phone with Ellen Singer. “All right,” he finally said and hung up. He looked over at the two of them. “Hey. Does the name Titanic ring a bell?”

Sam looked thoughtful for a moment, then shook his head. “Titanic? No.”

“Wait. Titanic? As in, _the_ Titanic?” Alex sat up, interest sparking in her eyes.

“Sure. What is it?”

“Dude!” For a second Alex actually felt offended. “It’s a ship! A big-ass ship. Was unsinkable, hit an iceberg on its maiden voyage and sunk? Thousands of people died? Seriously.” She shook her head. “Well, it was a big deal in _my_ universe.”

Sam frowned. “I think we would have heard of it.”

“Well, obviously not.” Alex shifted up to sit by Sam, watching as he typed _Titanic_ into the search bar. He clicked on the first webpage. “That’s it.” She pointed at the ship.

Sam cleared his throat. “ ‘The RMS Titanic was the largest passenger steamship in the world when it made its maiden voyage across the North Atlantic in 1912.’ ” He shrugged. “It made it across.”

“Huh.” Alex leaned her head against his shoulder. “Weird, huh? I forget that our universes are different — I mean, the whole monster stuff, obviously, but the small stuff too. Like 9/11?”

“It’s a gas station.”

“It was a terrorist attack on the Twin Towers,” the girl retorted.

“Whatever.” Dean wandered over to sit on the opposite bed. “So what’s the big fucking deal? It’s a ship. It sailed.”

“I don’t know,” Sam finally said. “I mean, it looks like it had a close call. It almost hit an iceberg.”

“Almost, huh?” Alex looked at the screen. “Good for it.”

“Yeah. The first mate spotted it just in time.”

“Huh. Good for him.” Dean sounded disinterested, and stood up to grab a beer out of the fridge.

“Wait a second.”

That had Dean turning. “What?”

“The first mate.” Sam frowned in disbelief. “Mr. I. P. Freely.”

“Well that’s not suspicious.” Dean walked over to them and sat down on the bed next to Alex. “You got a picture of old Freely?”

Sam nodded and after a few seconds he blinked in surprise. “You have got to be kidding me.”

He turned the laptop around, and Alex squinted as she studied the old black-and-white polaroid. “Wait.” She leaned closer in disbelief. “That looks like —”

“Balthazar,” Dean finished. He stood up. “Great. Angels.”

“He’s, uh, Cas’ friend, right?” Alex narrowed her eyes in confusion. She’d only seen the angel once or twice before, but was pretty sure he knew Castiel quite well.

“Yeah.” Dean threw on his jacket and shoes before grabbing his keys. “What do we need?”

Before Alex could ask for what Sam started listing things off on his finger. “Wine, vanilla beans,”

“Cumin, salt.” Dean finished with a nod. “Okay. I got most of that in the trunk. Rest should be at the store. I’ll be right back.”

“And a bottle of scotch,” Sam called after him. Dean waved in acknowledgement as he shut the door.

 

 **T** he familiar hum of the Impala ten minutes later had Alex looking up.

“Come on.” Sam closed his laptop. He cleared everything off of the table, and, with Alex’s help, they carried it into the middle of the room. Dean walked back in and dropped the ingredients on the table. He tossed a piece of chalk at Alex; she caught it and quickly drew the angel summoning sigil. A large circle, an X in the middle. Enochian sigils all around. She stepped back when she finished, letting Sam and Dean add the candles and small bowls.

Dean dropped a small strip of paper in the large bowl, and Alex could make out Balthazar’s name scrawled across it. Then the hunter lit a match and dropped it in, and the bowl’s contents lit up with a puff of smoke.

The lights flickered, and Alex looked around, unconsciously shifting slightly closer to Sam.

“Boys boys boys.” Balthazar appeared behind them, an eyebrow cocked. “And girl, of course.” He nodded cordially over at Alex before turning back to Dean. “Whatever can I do for you?”

“We need to talk.”

“Oh, you seem upset, Dean.”

“The hell with the boat, Balthazar?” Dean snapped.

“What boat?”

“The Titanic.” Sam sounded just as short-tempered as his brother.

“Oh. Yah. The Titanic.” The angel touched his forehead like he had momentarily forgotten. “Yes, well, it was meant to sink, but I saved it.”

A moment of silence, and then Dean looked over at Sam. “What?”

‘Well it was meant to bash into that iceberg thing and plunge into the briny deep of all this hoopla, and I saved it. Anything else I can do for you?”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why did you un-sink the ship?”

“Oh, because I hated the movie.”

“What movie?”

“Exactly.” Balthazar let out a gleeful laugh.

“That was an awful movie,” Alex admitted. “I never actually got all the way through it.”

“Ah.” The angel grinned. “ _A enay capim en ozien mononusa._ ” His words were completely lost on the human, who just nodded in acknowledgement before grumbling out a “sure.”

“Wait.” Sam stepped forward. “So you saved a cruise liner because —”

“Because that God-awful Celine Dion song made me want to smite myself,” Balthazar insisted.

“Who’s Celine Dion?”

“Oh, she’s a destitute lounge singer somewhere in Quebec, and let’s keep it that way, please.”

“Okay. I didn’t think that was possible.” Sam still seemed to be having a hard time wrapping his head around it. “I thought you can’t change history.”

“Oh, haven’t you noticed? There’s no more rules, guys.”

“Wow,” Sam scoffed. “The nerve of you. So you just, what, un-sank a giant boat?”

“Oh come on. I _saved_ people. I thought you loved that kind of thing.”

“Yeah, but those people and their kids and their kid’s kids, they must have interacted with — with so many other people, changed so much crap!” Sam insisted. “You totally Butterfly-Effected history.”

“Dude. Dude.” Dean cut his bother off. “Rule one, no Kutcher references.”

“Ah, yes. Unfortunately there’s still an Aston Kutcher. And you still averted the Apocalypse, and there are still Archangels. It’s just the small things that are different. Like you don't drive an Impala,” he told Dean, who looked surprised and confused. “Yes, yes,” the angel agreed. “ ‘What’s an Impala?’ Trust me, it’s not important. And of course, Ellen and Jo are still alive.” Balthazar walked over to the small kitchenette counter where the unopened bottle of Johnny Walker Blue Dean had boughten was sitting. He pulled a glass out of thin air and poured himself a drink. “Of course, then they’re the whole issue of Sam’s girlfriend.”

Sam shoulders rolled back, and Alex frowned in confusion. “What about me?”

“Oh, don’t you know? I suppose you don’t.” Balthazar walked back over to them, eyes running over the young woman. “Well, for one, you aren’t Sam’s girlfriend. Don’t even think you two like each other.” He paused thoughtfully about that statement before taking another sip. He watched Sam’s reaction before continuing. “And of course there’s the small fact that you weren’t really even human.”

Alex let out a small noise of surprise, and Sam crossed his large arms. “What do you mean, not human?” he growled out.

Balthazar ignored the hunter’s attitude. “Well, to more precise, she’s an angel. Was an angel.” He made a vague gesture. “It’s complicated.”

“Wait. An _angel_? L-Like with wings?”

“Yes, actually.” He turned back to Dean Winchester. “You see, when I sunk the ship —”

“No no no.” Alex shook her head. “No, we’re not moving on. How the hell could I’ve become an angel?”

Balthazar rolled his eyes. “Well, you’re certainly not any less bossy, that’s for sure.” He tipped back the rest of his drink before turning his gaze back to Alex. “You were an angel. Female angel. Very rare, always born human. We good?”

“No we’re not ‘good.’ ” Alex stepped forward, glaring up at the angel. “Why the hell — I — humans to angels?”

“Yes, really an oversight on our Father’s part,” Balthazar mused. “It’s complicated, and I’d rather really not explain it.” He walked back over to the counter and poured himself a new drink.

“Fine,” Sam agreed. “One more thing. Who? I-I mean, someone would have had to — to have done this.”

“Well, isn’t it obvious?” Balthazar looked between Sam and Alex. “When was it? Two summers ago, right? Ring a bell?”

Alex squinted in confusion, searching her mind for what the angel could mean. Then she looked away, blushing as she suddenly remembered what he was talking about.

“You see, I sank the boat. One thing led to another, which led to a thousand other things, and yada yada yada.” Balthazar walked over to them. “Anyways, let’s agree I did a good thing, hmm? One less Billy Zane movie and I saved your two closest friends.”

“But now someone’s killing all of the descendants.” Sam Winchester turned his attention back to the angel, and Alex stepped closer to the table.

“And?”

“And that’s maybe like fifty thousand people,” Sam snapped.

“And?”

“And we need to save as many as we can, but we need to know who’s after them,” Dean finished, crossing his arms.

“Oh, uh, sorry. You have me confused with the other angel — you know, the one in the dirty trench coat who’s in love with you — well, one of you.” He ended with a shrug. “I . . . don’t care.” He took a sip of his drink before, “Goodbye, boys. Alex.” Then he was gone.

“Whoa whoa whoa.” Dean stepped forward angrily. “Wait. Son of a bitch!”

Sam turned to look down at Alex. “You know what he’s talking about?” he pressed.

“Hey hey hey.” Dean snapped him out of it. “Bigger fish to fry here, Sam.” He pulled out his phone. “We need to tell Bobby about this.”

“And tell him what?” Sam turned to face his brother, and Alex sat down on the bed. “Tell him that his wife shouldn’t be alive?”

Dean hesitated for several seconds. “The least we can do is tell him the truth,” he finally said. “Okay?”

 

 **“W** hat?”

Dean nodded. “That’s what he said,” he reaffirmed. He had just gotten through relaying exactly what Balthazar had told them, and it was obvious that Bobby wasn’t pleased.

“So Balthazar un-sank a boat, and now we got a boatload of people who should never have been born.”

“Yeah,” Sam agreed. “Like fifty thousand.”

“Makes sense.”

“How does this make any sense?” Sam retorted, and Alex pulled her legs up onto the bed. The two Winchesters were seated on the bed across from her, Dean’s phone held out between them.

“Because I got an idea what we’re up against.”

“What?”

“Fate.”

Alex grinned. “Called it,” she teased, glancing up at Sam. He didn’t meet her eyes, and she looked back down at the ground, knowing he was still a little ticked about what Balthazar had said. She fell into silence.

“You mean —”

“I mean Fate, like the Fates. Or one of ‘em, at least.”

“You mean like Greek mythology,” Sam reiterated. “Like the sisters.”

“Bingo.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Nerd.”

“These ladies are responsible for how you go down,” Bobby explained. “Literally. So if you get creamed by a garage door or crunched by a copier machine, they’re the ones who hammer out the details of how you die. Spin out your fate on a piece of pure gold.”

“Golden thread.”

“And one of ‘em writes it all down in her day runner of death. It’s high level stuff. Anyways, it fits. Now we know what Balthazar did. It seems to me that maybe Fate is just trying to clean up the mess.”

“So, how do we stop it?”

“How do we stop Fate?” Bobby repeated. “Good question.”  
   
“Well, they’re got to be a way.”

“Or there ain’t,” Bobby countered. “I mean, this is Fate we’re talking about here. You know, the easiest way would be to get that angel to re-sink the boat.”

“No.” Dean firmly shook his head. “No way. Forget about it.”

“Big difference between dying bloody and never being born, Dean.”

“We’re not sinking the boat, Bobby. Don’t even think about it.”

“I think we should find a different way too,” Alex voted quietly, too quietly for Bobby to hear.

“Well, okay.” The old hunter on the phone managed to sound offended. “What’s got your panties in a clench?”

“Nothing.”

“Try that again?”

“It —” Dean let out a frustrated breath. “Look. It — it — it doesn’t even matter, but . . .” He trailed off, shaking his head.

“But?”

“But apparently a crap load of dominoes get tipped over if the Titanic goes down,” Dean finally got out. “And, uh, bottom line — Ellen and Jo die.”

Silence. When Bobby spoke again, his voice was low. “Okay, you guys. Listen up. You make sure — keep those angels from sinking that boat. Do you understand me?”

“Yeah. Yeah, Bobby of course.” Sam nodded, and Dean and Alex echoed him.

Bobby hung up, and Dean tossed his phone onto the bed beside Alex with a long breath. “Oh, he’s bad enough with her,” he said, standing up. “Think about how he’d be if she was gone.”

“Yeah.” Sam sighed. “So what do we do? I mean, how do we save fifty thousand people?”

“I got no fucking clue.” Dean looked over at Alex, who shook her head, gaze focusing on Sam.

“Yeah. We don’t even know who they are.”

“Well, we know one.” Dean pointed to the pamphlet he had grabbed from the attorney’s office. “I mean, next of kin’s got to be on the list, right?”

“Yeah.” Alex watched as Sam stood up and walked over to the table. “Hey, uh, can you give us a minute?”

Dean looked between Sam and Alex before nodding. “Uh, yeah. Yeah. Sure thing.” He grabbed his jacket off of the chair and threw in on. “Uh, see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah.” Sam waited until the door was closed before turning back to look at Alex.

She stood up, shoulders rolling back. “You know . . .” she began, “this — it really doesn’t change anything.”

“Yeah, it does.” Sam walked up to her, eyebrows knitted together in concern. “It changes everything, Alex. I — none of this is real. I — you’re not even suppose to be _human_.”

Alex put her hands on Sam’s hips, pulling herself closer. “We’re not gonna re-sink the ship, Sam,” she promised. “Okay?”

“What did Balthazar mean? By two summers ago.” Alex lowered her gaze, and Sam reached out to cup her cheek, lifting her head back up. “Alex?”

“I didn’t think it was important,” Alex started. “I . . . you remember that one case? With the cannibal Ed Gein kind of fucker?” When Sam nodded, she stepped back and sat down on the bed, motioning for him to do the same. “After the case I walked back to the motel. Cas showed up, and we started talking.” She studied her hands in her lap. “He, uh, he asked me if I wanted to be an angel. Said he had to choose one female human to be his, uh, his mate or something.” She shrugged. “I said no. I mean, you and I weren’t exactly a thing yet, but I don’t know — I guess it just didn’t sound appealing. He didn’t _look_ too beat up about it, so I just . . .”

Sam sat silently for a few seconds, and Alex just waited, hoping he would say something soon. “And you never mentioned it?” he asked, looking down at his lap.

“Well, yeah. Like I said, he didn’t seem that upset, and nothing really came of it.” Alex moved so she was straddling his thighs, dipping her head so she could look up into the hunter’s eyes. “Sam?” She took his hands. “You’re not like, pissed, or anything, right?”

“No, I’m not mad.” Large hands came to rest on her sides. “I just . . . I still have to wrap my head around this.”

“Okay, let me simplify.” Alex chucked him under the chin so he looked her in the eyes. “I don’t know what happened in the other sunk-Titanic type of world, but here? I chose you.”

Sam nodded, tipping his head forward to rest his forehead against hers. “I know.” His lips pressed chastely against hers for a long second before he pulled away. “The real question is if there a reason we weren’t together, or if Cas just got their first.”

“Hmm. My money’s on Cas. Then again, maybe you were a dick. Well, more of a dick.”

“Yeah right.” Sam kissed her again before gently nudging her off of his lap. “Come on. It’s getting late, and I didn’t sleep at all last night.”

Alex leaned down to kiss him once more. “You sure you don’t want a drink? You kinda deserve one. Or three.” When Sam shook his head, she tipped her head. “You sure? Because I don’t want you waking me up with nightmares again.” She ended with a teasing smile so he knew she didn’t mean it.

However, Sam shook his head again. “No thanks. Sleeping next to you works best.” He stood up and walked over to his bag.

Alex smiled. “Okay. I’m gonna take a shower then.” Sam grunted in acknowledgment, and Alex disappeared into the bathroom.

 

 **W** hen she came out the lights were already off, and it took her a few moments for her eyes to adjust. She could make out Sam’s shape under the ugly-ass comforter, and she made her way over to him, sliding into bed. He grumbled and rolled over, pulling her close. “Love you,” he mumbled, breath warm on her skin.

“Love you too.”

 

 **“T** here.” Dean pointed out through the windshield. “That’s him. Let’s go.”

Alex leaned in between the two seats of the Mustang to see who it was. “Who?” she asked, scanning the crowd. They were currently parked in an alley by Russo’s office, waiting.

“There. With the, uh, with the guy with the neck brace.”

Alex nodded when she located Shawn Russo. The man with the neck brace walked off, and Russo answered out his phone. “So he’s got his name in the knitting, huh?”

Dean looked completely confused, but Sam nodded in ernest agreement. “Yeah. Nice reference.”

“Nerds.” Dean shook his head as he threw open the door to the Mustang. All three got out, and Dean led the way down the sidewalk. “Mr. Russo!” Russo kept walking, and Dean quickened his step. “Shawn!” When he still didn’t answer Dean broke into a jog. “Russo!” The lawyer was crossing the street when Dean yelled, “Stop!”

The lawyer turned around to face them. Suddenly a white van came screeching down the street, and Alex froze as it careened straight towards him. She jumped back as Sam rushed forward, grabbing Russo by the jacket and yanking him backwards. The lawyer’s phone clattered to the ground as he hit the paved sidewalk, and Sam hurriedly helped him to his feet. The white van had swerved and was now stopped, and Alex could see the wide eyes of the driver. Murmurs passed through the crowd as Sam brushed the lawyer’s suit jacket off.

“Get off of me!” Russo shoved Sam away, glaring up at the taller man. “And you —” He turned to face Dean. “I told you to leave me alone, didn’t I?”

“Look. We’re just trying to help, okay?”

“Help me?!” The lawyer spluttered. “You almost killed me, you lunatic! Give me that!” He snatched his phone out of Dean’s hands. “Unbelievable,” he muttered as he stalked off across the street.

“Russo!” Dean yelled. “Hey!”

Shawn Russo turned around to face them. “Just be glad I’m not suing your a—”

The bus came out of nowhere. One second Russo was there, and the next all there was was a red stain on the ground. There were screams, and the bus screeched to a halt. Alex stepped out into the street. A shoe, his phone, a hell of a lot of blood.

Dean walked up next to her, voice full of disbelief. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“What?”

Dean pointed to the back of the bus, and Alex bit back a small grin to see an ad for Shawn Russo’s law firm on the back. “Too soon?” he asked.

Sam looked down at his brother. “Yeah, Dean, I’m pretty sure six seconds is too soon.” Alex took Sam’s hand as she continued to study the scene, and suddenly she felt Sam stiffen. “Hey hey hey.” He turned to look off to the left. “I think I saw her,” he hissed. “Right over there.”

“Her?” Dean scanned the almost-empty sidewalk. “Like, Fate her?” Alex didn’t see anything, and she grunted in confusion.

“Yeah.”

“What’d she look like?”

“Like . . . kind of like a librarian.”

“Your kind of librarian or my kind of librarian?”

Sam frowned slightly. “Well, she was wearing clothes, if that’s what you mean.” He squeezed Alex’s hand when she laughed.

Dean just frowned. “All right.” He started across the street.

Sam immediately stopped him. “Whoa whoa whoa,” he protested. “Wait wait wait. We can’t just walk over there.”

Dean turned to face them. “We’re not on the hit list,” he insisted. “We have nothing to do with the boat. Let’s go talk to her.”

“Talk?”

“Yeah.” Dean reached into his jacket pocket, revealing his Colt. “ ‘Talk.’ Worth a shot, right?” He put his gun back and crossed the street. Alex and Sam exchanged glances, but they followed. Sam pushed open a metal door and they entered.

Alex drew her own gun, squinting in the dark. She couldn’t make out much in the darkness, but from what she could see it was a kitchen. “Hello?” Dean called. He pulled out a small flashlight, and a white beam of light “Hello?” He took the lead, and Alex fell in step behind him. Suddenly the light died, and Dean huffed. “Oh, come on.”

“You got a lighter?” Sam suggested.

“Yeah. Okay.” Dean dug a silver lighter out of his pocket. He flicked the spark wheel, but nothing happened.

“Oh come on. It’s out of juice or something?” Sam dug in his own pockets, trying to find his own lighter.

“It shouldn’t be.” Dean tried the lighter again, but nothing happened.

Alex raised her head, sniffing. “Hey . . .” she started, “do you smell some—”

The lighter sparked, and suddenly there were flames. Then everything was dark. Alex stumbled, hands digging into Sam’s shirt to steady herself. Hands wrapped themselves around her, holding her tight.

“Cas!” Alex heard Dean exclaim the angel’s name, and she looked up to see Castiel standing in front of them.

“Hello, Dean. Sam.” Castiel’s gaze flickered down at Alex before returning to Dean.

“Hey, thanks man.” Sam sounded thankful, but Alex felt him reach down and take her hand possessively. And she didn’t miss the way the angel reacted. He stiffened slightly, almost unnoticeably if Alex hadn’t been watching, but managed to otherwise remain calm. “Where are we?” Sam finally asked.

“White Russia.”

“That explains why there’s snow,” Alex grunted, pulling down the sleeves of her jacket. “And why it’s cold.” The warmth from the sudden explosion of heat was fading, and the cold was nipping at her exposed fingers. Sam wordlessly shrugged of his jacket, but Alex stopped him. “Dude no.”

“Take it.” Sam insistently held it out, and Alex took it, not keen on making too big a scene in front of the angel. Especially not now.

“Are you aware of what your frat bro did?” Dean snapped, either unaware or completely ignoring the palpable tension.

“I’m aware.” Castiel tore his gaze away from Alex. “Balthazar can be . . . impetuous.”

“Well, riddle me this — if Fate’s going after the boat people, why’d she try to waste the three of us?”

“Well, I imagine she harbors a certain degree of rage towards you.”

“What did we do?”

“Nothing of import — just the tiny matter of averting the Apocalypse and rendering her obsolete.” If Castiel could sound sarcastic, this was it. “I think maybe she's a little irritated about that. And then you go and dangle yourselves in front of her . . .”

“So we’ve pissed off Fate personally,” Sam reiterated, frowning in his voice.

“If I know her — and I do — she won’t stop until you’re dead.”

“Awesome.” Dean grunted. “So what do we do?”

“Kill her.”

“Kill Fate?”

“Do you have another suggestion?”

“No,” Sam backtracked, “I’m — I just mean, uh . . . can you even do that?”

“Balthazar has a weapon that will work against her.”

Dean’s lips were set in a tight line. “Of course he does. Yeah. Boy that guy’s got it covered, doesn’t he? You need new friends, Cas.”

“I’m trying to save the ones I have, Dean. We’ll have to draw her out.”

“All right, well, uh, she’s gunning for us. She’s bound to surface again eventually.”

“We’ll make it easy for her. I think you have an expression for it. ‘Tempting fate.’ ” He cleared his throat. “I’ll take you back to your motel.”

Then they were standing in Dean’s room. Castiel turned to Alex and held out his hand. “Uh . . .” Alex looked up at the angel, not sure what he meant. “What?”

“I’m taking you back to Bobby’s,” Castiel stated. “It’s safer there.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” Alex took Sam’s hand, pressing her shoulder into his arm. “I’m in as much danger as Sam or Dean. I’m staying with them.”

“Alex—”

“Sam. I’m not ditching!” Alex looked up at the younger Winchester. “Yeah, I could die. But that’s the job. I could die. You could die. The hell am I suppose to do if you die, huh?” She saw Castiel shift his weight out of the corner of her eye, and dropped back onto the flat of her feet. Sam cupped her cheek supportively.

“I should go,” Castiel all but growled out. Then he was gone.

Dean let out a snort. “What’s his problem?” He glanced over at Sam and Alex, and then, “Oh.” He snorted again. “Great.” He looked over at the door, glancing out into the night. “How about a couple of drinks, huh? I think we deserve it.”

 

 **A** lex retched into the toilet, groaning as nothing came up. Her head pounded, and the footsteps approaching only made it worse. The bathroom door opened, and Alex felt Sam kneel down in front of her. “How you doing?”

“Fuck off, Winchester.” Alex rested her head against the cool porcelain surface. “Should’ve cut me off.”

“Last night on Earth?” Sam teased. “Nah. Besides, you’re cute when you’re drunk.”

Another wave of nausea hit, and Alex leaned forward, bile rising in her throat. A soft hand drew her hair out of the way, and the other one gently massaged her back. Alex fell back against him, sliding to the ground and pushing her head into the cold tile. Sam kept rubbing comforting circles into her back. “Never drinking again,” she muttered as the room spun.

“Mm-hmm.” Sam shifted so his back was pressed against the back of the tub, his legs stretched out, pressed against Alex’s back. “Want me to read?” he asked softly.

Alex nodded, pushing back further into her boyfriend’s legs. She closed her eyes, loving when Sam read aloud. He had a soothing voice.

She heard the soft rustle of pages, and then Sam cleared his throat. “Chapter 13. ‘Monseigneur, one of the great lords in power in the court, held his fortnightly reception in his grand hotel in Paris . . .’ ”

 

 **D** ean let himself in early in the afternoon. Alex was up and moving, if only barely; by the looks of Dean, he wasn’t faring much better. Alex hated to think how much alcohol it took to take _him_ down. “Hey.” He grinned over at her. “Ready to go meet our fate?”

Alex rolled her eyes. “How long’d it take you to come up with that one?” she teased.

“Yeah, yeah. Cute.” Dean adjusted the collar of his jacket, watching his brother slip on his boots out of the corner of his eye. “Come on. Let’s just get this over with, okay?”

 

 **T** wenty minutes later she found herself walking down a sidewalk, Sam and Dean on either side of her. “Okay,” Dean finally broke the silence, “so, we’re just gonna meet our fate at any time, right?”

“Yeah,” Sam agreed. “Just walk. Act natural.” However, Alex could feel the hunter’s palms sweating, giving away his fear under nonchalantness. They approached a flight of stairs, and Alex jumped back as a skateboarder flew past them.

“Okay.” Dean seemed taken aback too.

“That’s fine.” Sam continued on, and Alex stayed close by his side.

“So . . .” She cleared her throat. “Where are we going—” She was cut off by the sound of barking, and she flinched as two large dogs appeared at the top of the stairs, barking loudly. Dean and Sam moved up the stairs, obviously tense, and Alex stayed in between them. When they moved to pass the dogs they lunged forward, and Alex felt fur brush her hand as the dogs sniffed excitedly at the three of them. The owner tugged them along, and Alex and the Winchesters reached the top of the stairs, unharmed.

“Oh you got to be kidding me.” Dean’s voice had her turning back to what was in front of them, and she felt her jaw drop in disbelief. Two street performers stood there, tossing machetes and hatchets back and forth.

“All right,” Sam got out. “Just — just keep walking.”

“Sam,” Dean insisted, “they’re juggling _knives_. And hatchets.”

“Yeah. I know.” Sam trailed off, and Alex’s mouth ran dry as the jugglers set down the hatchets and picked up four lit torches. “Can’t avoid fate.”

He stepped forward, but Alex tugged him back. “Can’t we just go around?” she begged, gesturing to the open space behind one of the performers. Sam shook his head, and Alex closed her eyes, steeling herself for death as she let Sam guide her through.

She came out on the other side, unharmed. Dean joined them, opening his eyes in confusion to see all three of them still alive and well. All three exchanged looks, and then Dean shrugged. He led the way back down the street. He turned the corner and froze. A nail gun was pointed straight at his chest. Then it pulled away, and Dean visibly relaxed.

“All right,” Sam finally said. “I don’t get it.”

“I don’t either.” Dean led the way past the man with the nail gun. “Who do you got to kill to get killed around here?” Alex let out a huff of amusement at his words.

“Maybe Cas was wrong,” Sam suggested.

“Starting to look that way—”

“Look out!”

Alex looked up to see something falling from the sky. She flinched into Sam, and then everything went black.

 

 **S** he woke with a start, wings flaring out in alarm, hitting the roof of the Impala. She fell back against the leather seat, slowing her breathing. That was weird. In front of her, Dean jerked awake as well, scrambling into a sitting position. He turned the radio off and threw open the car door, waking Sam up as well.

“Dude,” Sam finally said, getting out of the car. “What time is it?” Before Dean could respond he added, “I-I just had the weirdest dream.”

“Twenty bucks says mine’s weirder,” Dean countered, looking over at his brother. “I am not kidding.”

“I had a dream too,” Alex said, crawling out of the backseat. “I liked it though. It was kinda cool.” She looked around. They were in the large garage in the Singer Salvage Yard.

“No no no.” Sam shook his head. “I’m no kidding either. I-I mean . . . it was just bizarre.”

“Mine had the actual Titanic in it.” Dean stopped when both Alex and Sam stared at him. “What? Something on my face?” He wiped his cheek with the back of his hand.

Sam looked uncomfortable. “D-Did it . . . uh, did it sink because Balthazar —”

“— had a hate on for Billy Zane? Why are you having my dreams, dude?”

“I had that dream too . . .”

“What?” Dean stared at Alex in confusion. “You had the same dream too?”

“Wait, what?” Sam looked down at her. “A ‘kinda cool’ dream?”

“It wasn’t a dream.” Grace pushed against Alex, and she spun around to see Castiel standing behind her.

“Wait, what? You’re saying this actually happened? That t-the whole . . . whatever . . . it was real?” Dean circled around the car to stand by his brother.

“Yes.”

Sam closed the Impala door. “Wait. So what happened?”

Castiel stared at Sam, wings rising slightly in anger, and Alex flicked her wings in his direction to calm him down. She shifted uncomfortably, and the angel dropped his wings. “I insisted that he go back in time and correct what he’d done,” he told Sam curtly.

“What? Why?”

“It was the only way to be sure you were safe.” Castiel’s grace pushed against Alex, leaving her no doubt what he had left unsaid. _It was the only way to be sure you stayed mine._

“So . . . so you killed fifty thousand people for us?”

“No, I didn’t. They were never born. That’s far different from being killed, wouldn’t you say?”

There was a long pause as all three tried to wrap their head around what Castiel had just said. “Ellen and Jo?” Dean finally dared to ask.

Castiel didn’t immediately respond. He looked down at the ground, contemplating his answer before looking back up at Dean. “I’m sorry.”

“Hold on.” Dean leaned against the side of the Impala, obviously quite confused. “Uh . . . so if you guys went back a-and changed everything back, then that whole timeline or whatever, it just got erased?”

“Yeah. More or less.”

“Well, then how come we remember it?”

“Because I wanted you to remember it.”

“Why?”

“Because I want you to remember who Fate really is. She’s cruel and capricious.”

“I’d go so far as to say ‘bitch,’ ” Dean added.

“Well, yeah.” Castiel took a few steps forward, stopping by Alex’s side. “You’re the ones who taught me you can make your own destiny. You don’t have to be ruled by fate. You can choose freedom. I still believe there is something worth fighting for. I just wanted you to understand that.”

“So, wait. Did, did . . . Balthazar really unravel the sweater over a chick flick?”

“Yes.” Castiel nodded in affirmation at Dean’s statement. “Absolutely. That’s what he did.” However, Alex noticed how his wings seemed to pull in tighter, the left one twitching slightly, and she narrowed her eyes in confusion. Angels were never very good liars.

“Wow.” If Dean caught on to it, he didn't show it. “ Well, might be time to take away his cable privileges. Besides, ‘Titanic’ didn't suck that bad.” Sam and Alex both gave Dean a look, and he immediately grew defensive. “Winslet’s rack?” he defended.

Castiel disappeared, and Dean turned back to them.

“I’ll tell you one thing about Cas, he does not appreciate the finer things.”

Sam let out a huff before walking away. Alex followed, watching as Dean affectionately rapped on the trunk of the Impala before moving off after his brother.

They walked in through the front door of Bobby’s house, and Alex watched as the two Winchesters stopped in the door of the study. She peered in between them to see Bobby laying on the couch, asleep, an open book in his lap.

“I guess things are back to normal, huh?” Sam finally said.

“ ‘Normal,’ ” Dean repeated scornfully. “Awesome.”

Sam let out a small sigh. “Poor bastard. Doesn’t even know how good he had it.”

“Yeah, well, what he doesn’t know can’t hurt him. I say we keep our mouth’s shut.” Alex grunted in agreement.

“Yeah. I’m with you. Should we wake him?” 

“Nah. That’s probably the best he’s felt all week.” Dean silently walked forward and pulled the grey blanket off of the back of the couch. He draped it over Bobby, who stirred only slightly before falling back into a deep sleep.

Alex watched, working up the courage to say something. “Sam,” she finally got out. When the hunter looked at her, she motioned for him to follow her back into the kitchen. “So . . .” she finally said, watching as Dean sat down at the desk. “We, uh, we ever gonna talk about this?” She felt herself blushing, but did her best to ignore it.

It made her feel better to see that a similar blush was faint on the hunter’s own face. “Wasn’t planning on it.”

“Really? Because I have seen parts of you I _never_ want to see again.” Alex didn’t miss the way Sam blushed even more, and from the lack of response took the feeling to be mutual. “So you’re not even the least bit weirded out that if you had been a little less of a dick in the beginning you and me would be a thing?”

“Wait wait wait. _Me_ being a dick? I don’t think that’s how it went.”

“It went something like that.” Alex hoisted her small frame up onto the kitchen counter. She watched as Sam’s lips twitched downwards, and he opened his mouth to say something, but Alex cut him off. “Listen. Either way, I’d stay on Cas’ good side for a while, okay? He seems a touch pissed about how that whole thing went down.”

Sam looked like he was going to object, but seeing the truth in her words he just nodded. “Yeah. Good idea. Maybe you should, uh, you know, talk to him.”

Alex grunted in acknowledgment, not exactly keen on doing just that. She watched as Sam walked away before she jumped off of the counter and exited the room. She ran up the stairs and slipped into her bedroom, closing the door behind her. She stood in the middle of the room and took a deep breath. “Cas?” she finally asked. “Uh . . . we kinda need to talk.”

Feathers rustled behind her, and she spun around to see Castiel standing there. His vessel remained calm, but his wings were arched high above his head. “Alex.”

“Hey.” Alex took a step back, wings falling down and flat. “So, that was weird, wasn’t it?”

When Castiel spoke, his voice was low. “You chose _Sam Winchester_ over me.”

“Yeah, well …”

The angel’s eyes were squinted in hurt and confusion. “I don’t understand. You gave yourself to him so easily, but when its with me, I — it feels like its been an uphill battle just to get that far.”

Alex dropped her gaze, wings curling down around her in embarrassment.

Castiel continued, voice cracking. “I had to relive those years, Alex. I remember every single day.” His wings fell flat, and he took a deep breath before he continued. “That day Sam first said he loved you, after you were attacked by the werewolf — that had been the day that I promised myself I would ask you to be my mate. But instead, I watched you _kiss_ him.”

“Cas —”

“I remembered how it was here, and not only did I have to watch you fall in love with that — that _abomination_ , but you . . .” His wings fell even lower. “You rejected me. I told you everything you needed to hear, everything you wanted me to tell you in the first place, and you said no.”

Alex lowered her gaze, not denying what he had said.

Castiel stepped closer, wings hesitantly folding forward.“Is that the only reason you’re here? Because I made a mistake?”

Alex rubbed her eye, looking for the right words. “Look, Cas . . .” She sighed, shaking her head. “Okay, yeah. I probably wouldn’t have said yes.” She didn’t miss how the angel’s eyes fell, and she stepped forward, reaching out with her wings. “Listen. Part of me’s glad I said yes. I mean, it was kinda shaky in the beginning, but things are a lot better now, considering.”

“And Sam?”

“What about Sam?” Alex watched as Castiel’s wings flared wide. “There’s nothing there. Things are different here, okay?” She closed her eyes and stepped forward. “I’ll deal with Sam,” she promised quietly, a hand tentatively resting on the angel’s chest. “Just . . . leave it to me. I, I still love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _A enay capim en ozien mononusa._ \-- an angel after my own heart (What Balthazar told Alex in Enochian)


	16. Frontierland

**January 10th, 2012**

**Lansing, Michigan**

**“S** o why are we here?” Alex followed Sam into Samuel’s study. “I mean, I get why we’re here, but couldn’t it have waited, like, a few more days?” They were at the Campbell family compound; having run out of leads back home, Bobby agreed that perhaps it was time to see if the Campbells had anything of any use; after all, Samuel had admitted to knowing who Eve was.

“It’s here, somewhere,” Sam promised, all but ignoring Alex. “I know it.” He shoved on the solid oak desk before looking back at Bobby Singer. “Help me move this.”

Bobby stepped forward and together they slid the heavy desk to the corner of the room. Sam dropped to his knees and hooked his fingers through a small iron ring. With a tug part of the floor swung up, revealing a ladder that disappeared into blackness.

“Well I’ll be damned.” Bobby looked over at Dean, who was still staring into the hole, flashlight barely cutting into the dark that lay below.

Without hesitation Sam descended down the ladder. Bobby followed, and, with an exchange of looks, Dean and Alex followed.

Alex dropped to the ground, wings flaring out to help steady her as she turned around to see where they were as Sam flicked on the lights. “Whoa.” They were in a concrete room; the walls were lined with books of every shape and size. “Bobby. Is this your heaven?” she teased, looking around.

“Welcome to the Campbell family library.” Sam led the way further into the room.

“So, Samuel collected all this stuff, huh?” Bobby followed the Winchester, obviously quite interested.

“Like what you see?” Alex quickened her step to catch up to him.

Bobby grunted in agreement. “Might make some use of this in the future.” He flipped open a book that was laying not the table. “Seems secure enough. Move some of my copies in here, move some of this stuff out.” He walked to the other side of the room, still muttering to himself.

“Wow.” Dean closed a book he had been looking through, his flashlight beam seeking out Bobby. “So, all right, what are we looking for?”

“Well, anything that’ll put a run in Octomom’s stockings. Pick a row.” And with that, Bobby carried a stack of books over to the table.

 

 **A** lex wasn’t sure how much time had passed. She was seated at the table next to Sam, dutifully skimming through a large red book, looking for the words “Eve” or “Mother.” Nothing. She rolled her neck, wincing at the stiffness; she wouldn’t be surprised if she had been reading for three or so hours.

“Bingo.” Bobby’s voice stirred her out of her thoughts. “Any of you jokers ever heard about a Phoenix?”

“River, Joaquin, or the giant flaming bird?”

Sam smirked, but Bobby chose to ignore Dean statement. “It says here that the ashes of the Phoenix can burn the mother.”

“The mother?” Sam repeated.

“Great.” Dean nodded. “Where do we get one?”

The older hunter shrugged. “You got me. I thought it was a myth.”

“All right, great.” Sam reached for another book. “Well, let’s see if we can find something out about a Phoenix.”

 

 **“G** uys. Guys guys guys guys guys.” Dean’s excited voice had Alex looking up from where she was laying across the far table. “Check this out.” He eagerly carried a book over to the table where Bobby and Sam sat, and Alex rolled herself off of the table to join them. He placed a small, leather-bound journal on the table. “ ‘March 5, 1861. Sunrise, Wyoming. Gun killed a Phoenix today. Left a pule of smoldering ash.’ ”

“Really? Whose gun?”

“Colt’s.”

“Colt? Colt like —”

“Like the Colt,” Dean agreed. He held up the journal, a wide grin across his face. “From Samuel Colt’s journal.” He opened the first page so they could see the name scrawled across the inside cover.

“What?” Surprise and excitement spread across Sam’s face. “That’s his?”

“Yeah.”

“Dude no.”

“Dude yes.”

“Well let me see it.” Sam eagerly reached for the book.

“Get your own.” Dean stubbornly held it out of reach.

“Well what else does he say about the Phoenix? What does it look like? Does it have feathers?” Even Bobby sounded excited, leaning closer to Dean.

“Maybe it has wings!” Alex added, her own wings flaring up in excitement.

Dean shook his head, flipping through some of the pages. “It just says ‘Phoenix.’ ”

“Did he say where he tracked it?”

“No.”

“Alright.” Sam didn’t seem to phased by the lack of leads. “So I guess we got to find one on our own, whatever it is.”

Dean was silent for a second, then a grin split his face. “I know where we can find one. March 5, 1861. Sunrise, Wyoming.” His grin widened. “We’ll _Star Trek IV_ this bitch.”

Alex grinned back, but Sam and Bobby just exchanged looks. Sam shrugged, and Bobby glanced back over at Dean “I only watched _Deep Space Nine_ ,” he admitted.

Dean shook his head in disgrace. “It’s like I don’t even know you guys any more.”

“We’re gonna save the whales,” Alex explained.

“I’m sitting with her.” Dean slid his chair closer to Alex. He held out a closed fist, and Alex bumped it with hers. “She’s the only one around here with any good taste in . . . well, anything. Anyways.” He turned back to Sam and Bobby. “We hop back in time, we join up with Samuel Colt, we hunt the Phoenix, and we haul its ashes back home with us.” He pounded the table to solidify his point.

“Time travel?”

“Yeah.”

Bobby still wasn't buying it. “That’s a reasonable plan?”

“We got a guy who can swing it.” Dean stood up and placed his hands flat on the table, eyes closing. “Castiel. The fate of the world hangs in the balance. So . . . come down here.” Nothing. Dean peeked open his eyes. “Come on, Cas. _I Dream of Jeanie_ your ass down here pronto. Please.”

The rustle of wings had Alex looking up in expectation. Then she frowned, pulling herself to her feet. “I don’t know that one,” she told the Winchesters.

An angel stood in front of them. The vessel was female, blonde and wearing a professional-type suit; however, Alex could feel the angel’s grace, and she was pretty sure it was a male angel. Her frown deepened in confusion. Why did the angels always have to make things like gender so complicated?

“Jeanie?” Dean asked, an eyebrow cocked as he studied the angel.

Silver wings twitched in annoyance. “Rachel.” Seeing Alex his lips twitched into a frown. “Something the matter?”

“What? No. I just . . . feminine vessel, feminine voice, feminine name . . . how do people remember you’re a dude?”

Rachel’s wings twitched again, this time more forcefully. “I was given my name long before you humans used it,” the angel growled out. “It was humans that chose to feminize it.” Rachel turned his attention away from the female angel. “I understand you need some assistance. How can I help you?”

“Well, uh, we kinda need to talk to the Big Kahuna.”

“I’m here on Castiel’s behalf.”

“Where is he?”

“Busy.”

 “Busy?”

“Yes.”

“Well, we got a line on the Mother of fucking everything, so —”

“I’m sure your issues are very important,” Rachel interrupted, “but Castiel is currently commanding an army, so . . .”

“So we’re stuck with Miss Moneypenny,” Dean finished sourly.

“So you need to learn your place,” Rachel corrected. His silver wings flared wide in offense at Dean’s impotence.

“Look, I don’t know who you are,” Dean began.

“I’m his friend. “

“And I’m his mate,” Alex snapped, stepping forward. Her own wings arched high above her, and she defiantly glared up at the angel.

Rachel stared down at the female angel. “I think you of all people should understand not to call him all the time. We’re fighting a war.”

“We get that,” Alex snapped.

“Clearly you don’t, or you wouldn’t call him every time you stub your toe, you petty, entitled little pie—”

“That’s enough.” Grace pushed through the room, and Alex stared up at Rachel for several more long seconds before Castiel’s voice had her dropping her wings low in submission. “Alex. Come here.”

Alex stomped over to Castiel, glowering back at Rachel. She expected some sort or rebuke, but his attention was solely focused on Rachael, wings flaring around her. Rachel snorted when he saw what Castiel was doing. “Relax, Castiel. Not all of us are interested in having a mate.”

“You should go.”

Rachel’s wings flared wide in offense. “I told you I’d take care of it.”

“It’s all right. You can go.”

“You’re staying?!”

Castiel flared his wings high above his head in a dominant display. “Go,” he repeated. “I’ll catch up when I can.”

Rachel thrust his wings down, and then the angel was gone. Alex snorted out a “good riddance,” and she heard Castiel’s somewhat amused voice in her head. _Are you always this defiant towards other angels?_

 _Only towards angels I don’t trust or respect_ , the girl prayed back, the tension leaving her wings now that the angel was gone.

“Wow.” Dean cut into their nonverbal conversation. “Friend of yours?”

“Yes.” Castiel dipped his head in agreement, attention turning to the Winchester. “She’s, uh, my lieutenant. She’s . . . committed to the cause.”

“She?” Dean looked confused. “Alex just said that she was a he.”

“Yes, well.” Castiel paused for a second to compose his answer. “It’s complicated. It’s easier to refer to his vessel’s gender for humans as it’s the only gender you see. Now. What do you need?”

“We might have found a way to stop the Mother,” Dean explained. “Only one problem; we need the ashes of a Phoenix.”

Castiel let out a small shake of his head. “I don’t know where one is,” he informed them. “I don’t have time to look —”

“We already found one,” Dean interrupted, circling around the table to stand in front of the angel. “One problem.” He grinned and held Samuel Colt’s journal. ““Sunrise, Wyoming. March 5, 1861.”

“1861.” Castiel’s lips twitched down into a frown. “As in the year.”

“Yeah. So, you think you could give us a ride back? Might be the only way to stop this fucker.”

Castiel nodded. “If you think that’s the best way,” he agreed. “I’ll do what I can. Do you need to go now?”

“Listen, if you’re really busy right now, just stop by Bobby’s tomorrow, okay? I’ll give you a call.”

Castiel tipped his head, then nodded. “Very well. Perhaps that would be best.” He thrust his wings downwards, and he was gone.

Alex watched him go with a sigh. “I really need to learn how to fly.”

“Yeah you do.” Dean walked over to the ladder and looked over at them. “Bobby? You coming or should we just leave you be?” he joked.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Bobby muttered, gathering up a large stack of books. “Idjits.” A book slid out of his hands, and he cursed as it hit the ground.

Alex walked over to him and picked up the book he had dropped. “Need a extra hand? I’ve got two.” Without waiting for an answer she took several of the books from Bobby’s hands and followed Sam over to the ladder. She hesitated, not sure how she was going to do this before she pinned the books against her chest with one arm, using the her wings and other limbs to stabilize herself as she ascended.

Reaching the top, she turned to help Bobby to see him already on his way up, his armful of books seemingly not causing any hinderance. With a shrug, she waited until he was up before kicking the trapdoor closed. She picked up the books and followed the Winchesters out. Bobby fell in line beside her and cleared his throat. “Things okay between you and Cas? He seemed a little tense back there.”

Alex shrugged, dropping her gaze. “It’s nothing,” she promised. “He, uh, gets a little overprotective around other angels cause I’m not technically his mate yet. Apparently that means I’m still free to choose any angel I want, and I think he’s a little determined not to let that happen.” She paused, then added, “It’s kinda cute, actually. Like a dog with a bone.”

“Huh.” Bobby shrugged. “Well, if there’s ever a problem . . .”

“Yeah. I, uh, I don’t think that’s necessary. I don’t think Cas could ever bring himself to force me into anything.” She let out a snort, lowering her voice as the Winchesters slowed ahead. “Well, apart from the whole “angel” thing. A misunderstanding, really. He, uh, I don't think he wouldn’t have done it if he had known.”

The old hunter was silent for a moment. “If you say so.”

“Yeah, well, I do.”

 

 **I** n twelve hours Alex found herself sitting on Bobby’s couch, watching Castiel, who was standing across the room, wings pinned loosely against his back, eyes focused on the far wall. He had come when she had called for him, but the Impala was gone, and so was Dean, so they were stuck waiting for the Winchester’s return.

“Where the hell is Dean?” Bobby sat at the other end of his desk, glancing over at Alex as if she had some kind of answer. He wiped down the barrel of his handgun before setting it aside.

“I dunno.” Alex shrugged, reaching over her shoulder to scratch at where her wings met her back. “He doesn’t tell me squat.”

“Supply run,” Sam spoke up from where he was sitting beside Bobby, cleaning his gun as well. “I don’t know where.” Alex ran her fingers mindlessly over the slide of her own gun which sat at her side, already cleaned. It was of little use to her, true, but she still liked carrying it.

Castiel cleared his throat. “Um, about your plan . . .” he began, almost sheepishly if Alex didn't know any better. “You’ll only have twenty four hours.”

“Wait, what?” Sam turned around to stare up at the angel, confused. “Why?” He stood up.

“Well, the answer to your question can best be expressed in a series of partial differential equations —”

Bobby cut him off. “Yeah. Aim lower.”

Castiel glared at Bobby before responding. “The further I send you back, the harder it becomes to retrieve you,” Castiel explained as simply as he could, gaze going back up to Sam’s face. “Twenty four hours is all I can risk. If I don’t pull you home within that time, you’re lost to me.”

“Well then you better get a watch.”

Alex looked up as Dean entered the room, carrying three brown bags. She smiled in confusion. “Uh, Dean? Whatcha got?”

“We’re going native. Gotta blend in.” He handed a bag to Sam before walking over and giving Alex one.

“Dude, no. I’m fine.” Sam looked at the logo on the bag, and Alex did the same. _Wally’s Western World._

“Sam.”

“Dean I can — I can wear this.” Sam gestured to his own plaid shirt and jeans.

“And look like a spaceman?” Dean scoffed.

“Look, just because you’re obsessed with all that Wild West stuff —”

“No I’m not.”

“You have a fetish.”

“Shut up,” Dean huffed. “I like old movies.”

“You can recite every Clint Eastwood movie ever made,” Sam retorted.

Bobby stood up and walked over to Sam. “Even the monkey movie?”

“Especially the monkey movies.”

“His name is Clyde,” Dean quoted in a southern accent. Alex rolled her eyes, and he looked over at her, hurt. “What? Just — at least wear the damn shirt.”

Sam left the room, grumbling under her breath, and Alex reluctantly peered into her own bag, anxious about what Dean had picked out for her.

“Relax.” Dean rolled his eyes. “I didn’t get you a dress, okay?”

Alex grinned. “Thanks, Dean,” she chirped. Dean left with his own bag, and she followed after him, hurrying up the stairs and disappearing into her own room. She tossed the bag onto the bed before peering inside to see what Dean had picked out. She discarded the vest without a second thought, leaving it somewhere up near her pillow, and turned her attention to the shirt. It was a dark grey button down with black curling flower design across the shoulders. She shucked off her own shirt and pulled it on, noticing how well it fit to her own shoulders. Dean obviously knew what size shirt she was — somehow that was still strange.

She pulled on a pair of dusty jeans from her closet before — with the greatest reluctance — threaded the leather belt through her belt loops, only momentarily studying the outrageously large belt buckle. She let her shirt hang down over her waist, covering the atrocity up. Then she turned back to the bag. There was a cowboy hat, and she hesitated only a second before pulling on the boots.

The angel studied herself in the mirror, pulling her large black wings tightly behind her back to give her a feel for what she actually looked like to the human eye. Then she shrugged; not something that you would probably see the 1800’s, but not bad. She heard footsteps go by, and she hurried down the stairs after Sam and Dean.

“Dean, this is stupid,” Sam insisted as he reached the bottom of the stairs. “I look stupid.” Alex circled through he kitchen to study the hunters. Sam looked the least outrageous, wearing jeans, boots, and a white button down with yellow flowers across the shoulder. Dean however, had gone all out. Alex couldn’t see much of what he was wearing under the blanket, but he looked like he had just stepped out of a Wild West movie.

Bobby snorted in amusement. “You going to a hoedown?” he asked Dean.

“Now is it —” Castiel looked over Bobby’s shoulder, confused. “Is it customary to wear a blanket?”

“It’s a sarape,” Dean retorted. “And yes. It’s uh . . .” He trailed off, shaking his head. “Never mind. Let’s just go.” He looked over at the duffle bag Bobby was packing. “What’s that?” he asked, pointing to the gold chains. Alex pushed her grace out: real gold.

“Where you’re going, they don’t take plastic.” Bobby zipped the bag up and handed it to Dean. Alex shifted closer to the Winchesters, expecting that they would be leaving soon. “That’s what you’re wearing?”

“Yeah. You got a problem with it?” Alex looked down at her clothes.

Bobby shrugged. “It just ain’t what most girls would be wearing back then, you know?”

Alex pulled off her hat and dropped it on Castiel’s head, pulling her hair up into a ponytail. “I’ll make do,” she promised. She took back her hat, which had somehow found its way into Castiel’s confused hands.

Bobby rolled his eyes, and Castiel just tipped his head, studying her in confusion. Alex rolled her eyes right back. “We going?”

Castiel nodded. “I’ll send you back to March 4th. That should give you enough time to find the Colt . . . and the Phoenix creature.”

“All right, well, see ya at high noon tomorrow.” He clicked his tongue and winked for emphasis to his Western reference. Alex rolled her eyes yet again.

Castiel stepped forward and touched both Winchesters on the forehead. Then they were gone, and Castiel turned to Alex. “Be careful,” he warned. “The phoenix may be able to recognize you.” Then he reached out. She felt his grace rush through his hand as he gently touched her forehead, and then the world was tumbling head over heels. She flared her wings out as her feet touched solid ground. Sam and Dean were standing in front of her.

Seeing Alex was there with them, Dean nodded curtly. “Alright. Let’s go find Samuel Colt.” He pointed towards the wooden buildings that marked the beginning of Sunrise, Wyoming.

Alex heard a small beep and looked over to see Sam start the timer on her watch. “Don’t let them see that,” she joked. “They might burn you at the stake for being a witch.”

Sam just rolled his eyes.

Suddenly Dean grinned. “Hey, we should try the Saloon first, uh, see what we can get from the locals.”

“Sure.” Sam chuckled at his brother’s words. “Whatever, Sundance.”

“Think we’ll have time to hit on saloon girls?” Dean ignored the way Alex rolled her eyes at his suggestion. However, he did catch the look Sam threw at him. “I’m kidding. Come on.” And with that, he led them towards the down.

They had only taken three steps when Sam cursed. “Dammit. Come on.” He shook the horse manure off of his boots.

“You know what that is?” Dean asked, grinning.

“Yeah, Dean. It’s horse—”

“Authenticity,” Dean finished. He walked away, leaving Alex and Sam staring after him.

“It’s horse shit,” Alex agreed with the younger Winchester before hurrying after Dean. Sam followed with several more muttered curses under his breath. “It’s warmer than I expected,” Alex commented, peering up under the brim of her hat at the blue sky.

“It’s Wyoming. In March.”

“Hm. Better than South Dakota in December. Speaking of.” Alex hurried so she was in front of the Winchesters, turning around and walking backwards so she could face them. “I need a new knife. Samson broke my old one.”

“I didn’t break it—” Sam protested.

“Well you lost the screws and cracked the blade,” Alex snorted. “Next time you’re drunk, use your own knife to practice darts with.” She turned back around and fell into step with Dean.

 

 **T** hey walked into the center of town where a large crowd was gathered. Alex pulled her wings in close to see what it was. A platform sat in the center, with three men standing atop it. The one in the center had a noose around his neck, and he was staring defiantly out into the crowd. “We stand here today,” the older man was saying, “March 4th, 1861, to execute justice upon Elias Finch for the murder of his own wife.”

“Wow,” Sam muttered, “talk about authenticity.”

“Sentence handed down myself, Tye Mortimer, duly appointed judge of Wyoming circuit. You will be hung by your neck until you die.”

“You got anything to say?” the second non-condemned man asked. He had one hand on the lever, but avoided eye contact with Finch.

“You’re gonna burn,” Elias Finch growled, voice echoing throughout the town square. “Every one of you.” His gaze locked with Alex, and she rolled her shoulders down, keeping her wings pinned as tight to her back as she saw literal fire dance in the man’s eyes. Then the floor beneath him gave out, and he fell. Alex heard a loud, resounding crack as his neck was dislocated. Then there were wings. They unfurled from his back, feathers yellow and red. They exploded in fire.

“Dean.” Alex reached out and grabbed Dean’s arm. “He’s the Phoenix.”

“W-Wait what?” Dean looked down at her in confusion. “You mean —”

“He had wings that just _exploded_ into flames,” Alex retorted. “Yeah. I’m pretty sure.”

“Wait wait. He’s the phoenix?” Sam looked over at the young angel. “But the journal says he dies tomorrow . . .” He trailed off as the crowd began to disperse.

A man in front of them turned around, and his eyes ran up and down Dean. “Nice blanket,” he gruffly said before walking away.

Alex looked up to see Dean’s face fall, and she reached out with a wing. “I like your blanket,” she promised.

“It’s a sar— never mind.” Dean handed Sam his bag and pulled off the sarape. Then he threw it down on the ground.

Alex frowned before she nudged him with her shoulder. “Let’s hit up the saloon,” she suggested, glancing behind her to see that Elias’ body was already gone. She pushed out her grace where he had gone, but couldn’t pinpoint it through the feel of fire still in the air. She pulled back and gave up. Seeing Sam’s face, she explained, “Well, obviously this Finch guy isn’t actually dead. So we can either go after the guys who went to bury him and somehow detain him until we get the Colt, or we could get a drink.”

“I vote drink.” Dean started to move towards the saloon.

Sam stopped him with a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Let’s talk to the sheriff first,” he suggested, motioning behind him towards the jail.

Dean reluctantly agreed, and Alex followed them across the street and into the wooden building. “Sheriff. Can we have a word?”

“Depends who’s asking.” Three men sat in the empty building; at their entrance, they all looked up. The sheriff leaned back in his chair, watching them closely.

“Marshall Eastwood.” Dean unbuttoned the top button of his vest to show off his silver-starred Marshall’s badge. “Clint Eastwood. This here is Walker.” Dean flicked a thumb over at Sam. “He’s a Texas Ranger. That’s Kitty Russell.”

Alex flicked her grace out, smacking Dean in the head. “ _Kitty_?” she muttered under her breath. Dean didn’t react.

The sheriff looked over at Alex. “That’s a girl?”

Alex took off her hat, letting her hair down. “Problem?” she challenged.

The sheriff seemed taken aback by her brazenness. “No disrespect, miss . . .” He cleared his throat to regain his gruff composure before turning his attention back to Sam and Dean. “What can I do for you three?”

“Uh, we’re looking for a man.”

“I bet.” The sheriff ran an eye up and down Dean. “Nice shirt, there.”

“What’s wrong with my shirt?” Dean snapped defensively, his clothes once again under attack.

“You’re very clean.”

“It’s dirtier than it looks,” Dean muttered sullenly, looking down at it.

“We’re looking for Samuel Colt,” Sam quickly explained. “Do you know him?”

“The gun maker?”

“Yeah. Is he in town?”

“Not that I know of. Might try asking Elkins over at the saloon. Been there longer than God.”

Dean tipped his hat in thanks, and Alex led the way out. “Saloon?” she guessed. When Sam and Dean nodded she huffed. “Great.” They walked down the street and Alex let Dean push his way through the swinging doors with the greatest finesse. She followed close behind.

Dean stopped only a few steps in, looking around. Alex followed his example; a man was passed out on the nearest table, obviously drunk. On the other side of the room were two women in dirty dresses; they looked at the Winchesters for only a second before turning away, giggling among themselves. Alex pulled her wings in tight, face wrinkling at the smell. Sweat, dust, alcohol, and under that, the hint of sex. “Smells like that one motel in Oregon,” she muttered under her breath. Sometimes heightened angel senses came in handy. Sometimes not so much.

The disappointment in Dean’s voice was evident. “This is not awesome.”

Sam patted his brother on the shoulder in half-hearted sympathy, Alex amiably poked him in the arm. “We’ll borrow a couple of horse later,” she promised. “That ought to be fun.” Before he could answer, she followed Sam over to the bar. She heard Dean trail after them.

“Hi.” Sam nodded at the bartender, who was wiping down the bar with a dirty rag. Alex deemed this to be that Elkins-fellow.

“What’ll you have?”

“Oh, uh, okay.” Dean nodded, then leaned sideways against the bar. “I’ll have your top-shelf whiskey.”

Elkins looked up. “Only have the one shelf,” he drawled.

“That’ll do just fine.” Dean pointed at his brother. “He’ll have the sarsaparilla.”

Alex raised her hand in agreement. “Me too, I guess.”

Dean looked down at her. “You know what that is?”

“Haven’t the faintest.” Alex watched as the bartender pulled out three glasses and began to pour their drinks.

“You Elkins?”

“One and only.”

Dean looked over at Sam, then leaned forward against the bar in interest. “You know a man named Samuel Colt?”

Elkins shrugged. “He passed through here about four years ago.” He put the bottle of whiskey back on the shelf behind him before reaching for the other bottle. Alex sniffed the air, recoiling at the strong stench of the whiskey.

Sam looked amused at that statement, the left side of his lips curling up into a smile. “He still around?”

“Rumor is, he’s building a railroad stop twenty miles out of town, just by the postal road. Middle of nowhere.” Elkins poured out two glasses of sarsaparilla.

Sam leaned closer to Dean. “The Devil’s Gate?”

“Location fits,” Dean whispered back with a nod.

“Howdy, boys.” Footsteps approached, and Alex glanced behind her before doing a double take. A woman walked towards them. A few inches shy of six feet, hundred sixty or so pounds. Alex’s lips quirked into a frown. Unkept blonde hair, stained teeth, smudged lipstick. Was that lipstick?

“Darla here’s my best girl,” Elkins told them, somewhat proud.

“Try me.” The woman walked right up to Dean, who leaned away, eyes wide. “You want a kiss?” she asked. Dean leaned back even farther, but Darla was persistent, hands resting on Dean’s chest as she pushed herself closer.

“Hey.” Alex gently pushed her away by the shoulder, deciding to help the poor Winchester out. “You mind not getting too close to my man?” She flared her wings out in an attempt to intimidate the other woman.

Darla looked somewhat shocked, but not half as shocked as Dean. He stuttered out a “sorry” as Darla stepped away. Sam just looked amused.

Darla looked Alex up and down, a disgusted look on her face, and Alex squared her shoulders. “You look like a man.”

“Darla!” A man’s voice had the woman turning and saved Alex from responding. It took the young angel only a second to realize it was the judge that had hung Elias Finch.

“Ah. Judge.” Darla glared down at Alex a second more before turning to face the man. “Nice to see you.”

“I thought we had a date.” The judge motioned to the staircase with a thumb.

Dean turned back to the bar, eyes wide. “Wow. That was a close one.”

Sam nodded. “I guess it’s good to be judge.”

Dean grunted in agreement then looked over at Alex. “Really?”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Alex took her glass of sarsaparilla and gave it a half-hearted sniff. “Next time should I let her kiss you?”

Dean grunted. “No thanks. They’re germier than I thought,” he added with a mutter. “I’d take you over her any day.”

Alex felt her face blush slightly with the compliment. “And don’t you forget it,” she huffed. She took a hesitant sip of her drink. Nonalcoholic. Not too shabby.

She heard Dean make a disgusted noise, and something wet hit the side of her face. She wiped it away with the back of her hand, glaring up at the hunter. “Don’t spit on me,” she snapped. “That’s gross.”

“It taste’s like gasoline,” Dean grimaced.

He set his glass down, and Alex grinned. “Wow,” she teased. “Never thought I’d see the day where Dean Winchester couldn’t down a glass of whiskey.”

“Shut up.”

Alex opened her mouth to respond, but she was cut off by a scream. The angel instinctively pulsed her grace out; she pulled back as fire engulfed her senses. “Phoenix,” she hissed before charging towards the stairs. Sam and Dean followed, quickly surpassing her as they bounded up the wooden staircase and flung themselves through a closed door.

Alex slid to a stop behind them, pushing her way between Sam and Dean’s shoulders to see what lay beyond. Darla stood in the corner, trembling and fearful. However, Alex’s attention was focused on what lay on the bed. The smell of burned flesh and ash was heavy in the air, and the source came from the bones on the mattress. Only the upper half of a still-smoldering skeleton remained, the rest having disintegrated into ashes. “Well shit.”

Dean nodded in agreement. “Maybe not so good a day to be judge,” he joked, and Sam rolled his eyes at his brother’s humor.

Alex approached, squatting down to study the remains. “Phoenix,” she agreed. “Quite literal about the ‘you’re gonna burn’ part, don’t you think?”

The sheriff came bursting through the doors, and the Winchesters moved out of the way to let him through. Alex stood up to let him take a look at the body. He stopped in his tracks, freezing in shock.

Sam cleared his throat. “You okay, Sheriff?”

“Of course I’m okay.” The sheriff gruffly shook himself out of his thoughts.

“It was a ghost!” Darla insisted, and Alex looked up in surprise to see that the woman now stood behind the sheriff, a thin blanket tightly draped across her shoulders.

“It wasn’t a ghost,” the sheriff rebuked. “Unless ghosts leave footprints.” He gestured to the floor, and Alex peered over the bed to see ashy footprints that disappeared out of the room. She followed them out into the hall, grace pulsing out in hopes to catch a trail. When she found nothing, she stepped back into the bedroom.

“I’m telling you,” Darla was saying, “Elias Finch was here. He did . . . that, then he walked out the door.”

The sheriff shook his head. “Rope didn’t kill him,” he finally decided. “Seen it before.”

“Well, you got any idea where he could be?”

“Could be a thousand places.”

“Well, you got a way to flush him out?” Dean tried.

“Course,” the sheriff huffed. “We’re gonna form a posse. Then we’re gonna string Finch up right. Put a bullet in his head for good measure.”

Dean pondered it for a good second before nodding. “Actually sounds like a good plan,” he agreed.

“You two should come along,” the man suggested, gesturing to the two Winchesters. “Meet downstairs at noon.”

“I’ll come too,” Alex offered, raising her hand. She didn’t miss the way the Sheriff looked her up and down in disgrace, and she flared her wings in protest. “You know, if I had a dick you’d be all for it,” she huffed.

“A what?”

Alex rolled her eyes and looked away. “Never mind,” she grumbled out, ignoring how Dean smirked at her words.

“Yeah, we’ll be there,” he promised.

The sheriff just grunted. “And get yourself some real gear first.” Then he left.

Dean looked down at his clothes, frowning. “Well, think we ought to pay our respects to Mr. Finch,” he finally said.

“I was thinking the same thing.”

Alex pulled her phone out of her pocket and glanced at the time. “We still have a couple hours to kill till sunset,” she pointed out, “and there’s no point in going after him until Colt’s here. Besides,” she added quietly, “I think he knows I’m an angel.”

Dean’s nostrils flared as he let out a long breath. “Great. Okay. We lay low until sundown.” He suddenly clapped his hands together, and Alex jumped. “How about a little exploring? I mean, how many times are you gonna be in 1861?”

Alex nodded. “Yeah. That’d be cool.”

Dean nodded enthusiastically, and Alex grinned.

 

 **T** he sun had long since set by the time Alex followed Sam and Dean out of town. She watched as Sam tripped over the uneven ground, and reached out gently to steady him. “Graveyards’ up ahead,” she told them, pointing through the darkness.

Dean cursed under his breath, the light from his lantern nowhere near as effective as a flashlight.

Alex snickered and quickened her step. “I’ll lead. I can see.” She bounded up the hill and stopped beside the low iron fence that surrounded the cemetery. Wooden crosses sat in the soil, several rotting and crooked. A glance behind her showed the church close behind, looking over the graveyard.

She heard Dean puff as he hurried up the hill after her, taking a moment to breath. Then he stepped over the fence. “Here.” He pointed down into the dark. “Empty grave.”

“Wow.” Alex joined him, sarcasm heavy on her voice. “Wasn’t expecting that. He’s not there? Weird.” Dean cuffed her over the head, but she just chuckled.

Sam shook his head, unamused. “So. Question, is, how do we put this thing down?”

Dean let out a long breath, walking a few feet away before turning around, an idea lighting up his eyes. “Well, we do know one thing that’ll kill fucking anything, right?”

“Yeah, the Colt.”

“So, you go get the gun.”

“But isn’t the gun coming here?” Confusion lined the Winchester’s voice. “I mean, according to Samuel Colt’s journal?”

“Yeah, but these people barely even know who Colt is,” Dean argued. “Maybe you got to go find him and make history. I’ll stay here, hook up with the posse. Cause you know me. I’m a posse magnet.” When Sam still looked confused, he add, “I mean, I love posse.” He grinned when Sam groaned, shaking his head. “Make that into a t-shirt.”

Alex shook her head at her friend’s entendre. “I’m gonna get you that on a shirt,” she promised. “Maybe for your birthday.”

Dean’s grin widened, but Sam looked completely unamused. “You two done?” Dean dropped his gaze, and Sam sighed. “Look. The problem is the Colt is twenty miles out of town. How am I suppose to get there and back before noon?”

As if an answer to prayers, the protesting neigh of a horse reached their ears. Alex and Dean exchanged looks, and then Dean grinned up at his brother. “Ride ‘em, cowboy.” Before Sam could answer he turned and sauntered out of the cemetery. Alex hurried after him.

 

 **“H** ere ya go.” The old man handed Alex the reins of a brown and white mare, freeing his hands to accept the gold chain from Dean Winchester.

The horse nickered loudly, and the angel reached up to calm it, hand resting between its eyes. “ _Drix_ ,” she soothed. She felt the mare relax beneath her touch, and she pulled away, dropping the reins as the old man who they had just bought the horse from walked away. She looked over at Sam expectantly.

“Wait. I am I going or is she?” Sam looked confused.

“You’re going.” Alex stepped away from the horse. “I’ll stay with Dean and keep an eye out for this Phoenix. Besides. A posse sounds like fun.” She reached out with her grace and smacked Dean over the head as the hunter snickered. “Oh shut up.”

Sam wasn’t stricken with the same amusement his brother was, and just nodded. “Yeah. Sure.” He walked up to the horse’s right side, hesitantly reaching up for the horn of the saddle.

“Wh— uh, try — try the other side,” Dean suggested.

“Right.” Sam circled around, and Dean stepped forward, taking the mare’s reins and patting her on the head amiably. Sam swung himself up into the saddle, and Dean handed him the reins.

Alex tipped her head. “You ever ridden a horse, Sam?”

“Uh, yeah. A really really long time ago.” Sam shifted in the saddle then nodded. “Hey. This actually feels alright.” He tightened his grip on the reins as the horse stepped forward.

“Alright, just — just take it easy,” Dean suggested as he walked away.

“Yeah, you bet. I’m good. I — 11 am, right?”

“Yeah. Don’t be late.”

“Okay.” Sam kicked the horse into a quick walk.

“All right. Go on.” Dean watched as his brother took off down the road, and he shook his head. “That poor horse.”

Alex laughed. “Come on. Let’s find a place to hole up for the night. Gotta be rested for that posse tomorrow. I’ve never been in a posse before,” she mused. Dean snickered again, and she playfully slapped him on the shoulder. “Would to stop?” she laughed. “I have a mate, Dean.”

“I won’t tell.” Dean drew an X over his heart with a finger. Before Alex could retort he started walking away. “Come on. I’m sure they have a room or something at the saloon.”

 

 **A** lex didn’t sleep much. She gave up around three or so in the morning and quietly crawled out from beside Dean, instead taking a seat in one of the old wooden chairs. She leaned forward, resting her head in her hands, slipping deep into mindless thought.

Dean got up at the crack of dawn, and his movement stirred Alex awake. She shot him a small smile as he stretched out his arms. “How’d you sleep?”

Dean just let out a pained grunt. “No wonder people got up so early,” he grumbled out. “What are those mattresses made of, rocks?”

Alex chuckled. “Probably.”

“How bout you? Sleep well?”

“Didn’t sleep at all , actually.” Alex shrugged. “I dunno. I guess I don’t really need to, you know, as an angel and whatnot.” She stood up, rolling her shoulders back to stretch out her muscles.

“Huh. Can you sleep?”

“Yeah. I like to sleep. I mean, I sleep every night at the motels. I don’t have to, but I do.” Alex pulled on her boots and straightened her shirt.

“So . . .” Dean unzipped the duffle bag and held up some of the gold Bobby had packed. “Want to grab some new gear? Sheriff suggested it?”

“You just got those clothes yesterday.”

“Yeah, well, you’re really gonna pass up the chance to get the authentic stuff?”

The angel shook her head in amusement. “I’ll come with you,” she agreed. “No promises I’ll find anything I like.” And with that, she put on her hat and followed Dean out of the room.

 

 **T** he sun was above the horizon when Dean pushed his way back into the saloon. Alex followed, still in her jeans and button down from before. However, Dean had gone all out, and Alex had to admit he looked good. Brown trousers, shirt and vest, all covered by a long dark duster. He confidently sauntered over to the bar, tipping his hat at Elkins.

“New hat,” the bartender commented.

“I look good,” Dean agreed before glancing around the room. “Where’s the posse? I must be early.”

“Or you’re the only greenhorn dumb enough to go chasing after a ghost.”

“What are you talking about?” Dean leaned against the bar. “Sheriff’s tough as nails. He’ll be here for sure.”

As if on cue, a man’s panicked voice rose from outside. “Oh God!” he cried. “The sheriff’s dead!”

“Or not.” Dean looked down at Alex, who just shrugged. She fell in step behind the Winchester as they hurried out of the saloon to see what was wrong.

In front of the jail was a pile of ashes. Alex knelt down beside it, reaching in with one hand to pull out half of a skull. “That’s the sheriff all right,” she confirmed. “Dead as a doornail.”

“Great. Who’s the sheriff now?”

Alex watched curiously as Elkins knelt down beside the ashes. He picked up the gold metal star an wiped it off with his dish rag as he stood. Without a single word he turned and pinned it onto Dean’s vest.

“What?” Dean just watched, dumbfounded. “What . . .”

“Now. Congratulations, sheriff.” And with that, Elkins walked away, not even giving them a second glance.

Alex stood up, head tipping in confusion. “Uh . . . Well, howdy sheriff.” She amiably patted Dean on the back.

Dean looked down at the badge, tracing the engraved letters with a finger. “Awesome,” he finally grinned. He looked down at Alex. “Looks like I’m your boss now.”

“You will _never_ be my boss.” Alex scanned the street, looking for any sign of Elias Finch. “Come on. We’ve got a job to do.”

Dean nodded. “Well, he’s already iced the judge and the sheriff, right? Chances are he’s gonna go after the third guy up on the platform. You know, the one he said was ‘going to burn’? Come on.”

“So the deputy.”

“Yeah.” Dean started briskly down the street, and Alex hurried after him.

“You even know where this guy lives?”

“Elkins!” Dean veered off into the saloon. “Where does the deputy live?” A low voice answered him, and Dean nodded curtly, then stuck his head back out of the saloon. “Guess he lives upstairs. Come on.”

They ascended the stairs, and Dean stopped beside a wooden door. Alex pushed her grace out, and nodded when she felt a man in the adjacent room. “Someone’s in there,” she agreed, going to open the door. Locked. “Want me to . . .”

Dean shook his head. “I got this.” He drew his pistol and tapped the wooden door thrice with the barrel.

“Who’s there?” a suspicious voice growled.

“Candygram for Mongo,” Dean answered in a falsetto voice, and Alex rolled her eyes. The door unlocked, and Dean leveled his gun, ignoring that the deputy had his pistol drawn as well. “Well howdy, pilgrim.”

“I ain’t no pilgrim,” the deputy retorted.

“Back up.” Dean stalked into the room, giving the man no choice but to backpedal. Alex slid into the room, noting the disarray of the room. Clothes lay scattered on the bed, and in the midst of them was a small suitcase. He was packing. Dean kicked the door close behind him. “Is that any way to, uh, greet your new boss?” he asked, pulling the lapel of his duster back to reveal the sheriff’s badge.

The deputy immediately dropped his gun to his side, and Dean did the same, placing his gun back into his holster. “Missed you at the posse this morning,” he commented as the deputy hurried back over to his suitcase. “I was a one-man wolf pack, thanks to you.” Alex huffed in disagreement, and Dean looked over at her. “Okay, she was there too.”

“That’s a she?”

The faintest hint of amusement flickered through Dean’s eyes, and Alex ran a hand down the side of her face. “Where are you going?” she asked instead.

“Going to visit my sister.” The deputy threw a bunched-up shirt into his suitcase.

“Well, she’ll have to wait.”

“But if I don’t —” the man protested, but Dean cut him off.

“Finch said he was coming back for the former Sheriff, Judge Mortimer, and you. That’s two down and one to go.”

“Then just let me go!”

“You really think you can outrun him?” Dean scoffed. “He’s going to _kill_ you, unless . . .”

“Unless what?” The man looked up at Dean, terror and hope mixed across his face.

“Unless we gank him first.”

“ ‘Gank?’ What’s ‘gank?’ ” The deputy turned back to his packing. “You’re crazy, mister. No way you’re on your own.”

“I’m not asking you to throw down with him. I’m asking you to play your part.”

“My part?”

“Yeah. Bait.”

Alex sighed. “Dean.”

“What?” Dean looked over at the young angel, who was leaning against the far wall, arms crossed. Her lips were twisted into a light frown.

“Bait? Really? I thought you hated using bait.”

“You got a better idea?”

“Wait.” The deputy looked up at Dean in confusion. “You said your name was Clint.”

“Yeah, well, I lied.” Dean stepped back towards the door. “So are you in or not?”

The deputy hesitated for a second. “You swear you won’t let him hurt me?”

“Promise.”

“Okay.” The deputy nodded. “So now what?”

 

 **A** lex tipped her chair back against the wall, then let it fall forward onto all four legs. They had been waiting in the jailhouse for an hour. Dean was leaning against the table, playing mindlessly with an iron nail — Alex had found out it was iron the hard way, and her grace still felt the sting. The deputy — Aaron Thomas was his name — was pacing in one of the jail cells.

Dean glanced over at the clock and frowned. “Never been late in your damn life, Sam, and now you’re dragging ass,” he muttered, fiddling nervously with the iron nail. Alex followed his gaze: 11:50 am. They had ten minutes left.

“So this is your big plan, huh? Let me rot in here till Finch comes?”

“Pretty much.” Dean spared Thomas a glance. “Why’s he gunning for you, anyways?”

“I guess you missed the part where we hung him?”

Dean shook his head. “No, I’m thinking to a thing like Finch, that’s no big whoop. What about you, Alex?”

Alex shrugged, tipping her chair back then letting it fall flat. “If they hung me I probably wouldn’t give a damn,” she agreed. “I’d leave town, start again. I don’t think I’d be pissed enough to start killing.”

“What?” Aaron Thomas walked up to the bars and stared at Alex. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“No, this seems personal,” Dean continued. He dropped the iron nail on the table and walked over to the cell.

“I’ll tell you what. You let me out of here, and we’ll talk.”

Dean clicked his tongue in disagreement. “No can do.”

Something pushed insistently against her grace, and Alex jumped to her feet, wings flaring out. The door opened, and Elias Finch silently stepped through. He ignored Alex, instead turning his gaze to where the deputy gasped and Dean turned around. He closed the door behind him, stepping forward. “Open that cell,” he commanded, pulling off his black leather gloves.

“Open it yourself,” Dean retorted, walking back over to the table. “You melt people’s faces off. I’ll bet you got the juice to tear that apart easy, don’t you? Unless you can’t. Just like you couldn’t break those cuffs when they strung you.”

He suddenly flicked his wrist, and Alex watched as Elias easily caught the iron nail. Then he dropped it with a hiss of pain.

“Iron shackles, iron bars . . . iron nail. See a pattern? Don’t worry. Most creatures I meet can’t get it up for iron. It’s a common monster problem.”

“Us angels aren’t a huge fan either,” Alex agreed. “Doesn’t set well with our grace.”

“An angel, huh?” Elias Finch studied Alex. “Explains the wings.” The air around him shimmered for a brief second, and then large fiery wings extended from his back, unfurling towards the sky. He looked between Alex and Dean. “So you two are hunters.”

“Slash sheriff,” Dean added, pulling his coat aside once again.

“You know what that son of a bitch did?” Elias hid his wings as he glared over at the deputy.

“Do tell.”

“I was married to a woman. Good woman — human. We lived outside of town, didn’t bother anyone.” Elias Finch wandered over to the deputy, who backed up nervously.

“Sure, freak with a heart of gold.”

Elias glared over at Dean. “You want to call me ‘monster,’ fine. But all we did was go into town. I go into the bank for five minutes. I come out, she’s gone. And then I hear her scream.” He let out a sharp breath, and the air around him crackled. Alex walked over to Dean, wings nervously pulled in tight. “This . . . man had her pinned in the alley,” the phoenix growled. “I go to stop him, he pulls a gun, shoots me, then her. She died in my arms. ‘Course,” he added with a cold grin, “I don’t die. The shots brought the Sheriff. Next thing I know, I’m in iron. That’s why I want him where just where he is. Trapped. Scared.” A cold smirk tugged at his lips. “I saved the best for last.”

Dean looked over at the deputy. “Is that true?”

The deputy didn’t respond, and Finch looked back at the two of them. “So tell me — are you really willing to die to protect this piece of filth?”

“Honestly I couldn’t care less about him,” Dean admitted. “He’s a dick and a coward.” He ignored the deputy’s protesting cry. “But this ain’t about him. I know who you are. So . . . I got to kill you.”

The phoenix smirked, turning to face him. “Well, if you know what I am, then you know you can’t.” He suddenly reached up on the wooden post and pulled out the deputy’s gun. In one move he spun around, cocked the gun, and shot the deputy in the heart. The man staggered back and collapsed.

Alex and Dean watched in shock. “I really should have seen that one coming,” Dean finally admitted.

“At least he didn’t shoot the sheriff,” Alex half-joked. “That’s the saying, right?” The phoenix turned on them, and Alex drew her angel blade, moving several steps back as two shots were fired. Dean dove through the window, but Alex held her ground, letting her wings flare out.

The fiery wings returned, stretching up towards the ceiling. “If you want to use that,” he warned, “you’re gonna have to get close enough for me to touch you.” His hands glowed red with fire, and Alex stepped back again. “You really willing to bet your life?” Flames burst to life on his wings, lighting up the entire room.

“Alex!”

Without only a second’s hesitation, Alex jumped out the window. She landed on the wooden porch, and hands landed on her shoulder to steady her. “Come on!” Alex shoved Dean into the street, taking after him. Shots were fired, and they both flinched. Dean ducked in between two buildings, and Alex followed, keeping pressing herself into the wall.

“Go.” Dean motioned with his head down the alley.

“You first. I got back.”

‘You’re not gonna be my bullet shied!”

Another shot was fired; this one hit the wooden panel directly in front of Alex. “I can survive bullets,” she hissed. “You can’t. Go!” She shoved him again, making him take the lead. Dean leapt between porches of a building before pressing himself in a doorway. Alex followed suit, taking in a shaky breath. She watched as Dean drew his pistol.

“Dean!” Sam came around the other corner, and Alex’s head snapped up.

“Sam!” Dean urgently waved him over. “Come on come on.” Sam hurried over to them, and Dean looked behind him, confused. “Hey. Where’s Colt?”

“He’s not coming.”

“What!” Dean stared up incredulously at his brother.

“But he sent this.” Sam held out the Colt, and Alex watched as Dean’s eyes lit up.

“Ohh. Hello, beautiful.” Dean carefully took the gun, fingers reverently running over the devil’s trap carved into the handle.

“Alright.”

Dean hurried down into the street. “Come on.”

“Yeah.” Sam and Alex hesitantly followed. However, they stayed on the porch, out of the way.

“Come out here, Finch!” Dean bellowed, his voice resounding through the silent town.

“What are you doing?” Sam hissed after his brother.

“Come on!” Dean yelled. “Let’s do this!”

Alex’s wings rustled out as the phoenix stepped out into the street. His wings fluttered curiously at the sight of Dean standing in the middle of the road. “So this is how you want to die,” he drawled, stopping several paces in front of the Winchester. “Fine.”

The two stood facing each other for several long seconds. The only movement was the wind in Dean’s coat and the impatient twitch of the phoenix’s wings. The fire had died down, leaving red and orange feathers. When they moved, light sparked through them like crystals.

Then the clock struck twelve, and the street came alive. Both men immediately drew, and two shots were fired. Alex jumped at the sound. Dean remained still, and the angel pushed out her grace to make sure he was okay. As she watched, the phoenix stumbled. Blue light flickered in his chest, and suddenly he threw back his head. Flames enveloped his body, wings beating violently. The flames died, and he crumbled into ash.

Dean grinned, eyes trained on the pile of ash. “Yippie-ki-yay, motherfucker.”

Sam’s watch beeped, and Alex jumped. “Dean!” She broke into a run towards the hunter. “The ashes!”

The hunter fumbled in his pocket and pulled out a small glass bottle, running towards the ashes. Alex watched as the Colt fell from his hands, landing in the dusty ground. She ran after him, and then the world spun.

Alex almost hit the wall. She slid to a stop, wings flaring out in alarm. The kitchen wall. She was in Bobby’s study. She peered around the wall to see Dean on the ground. Castiel was there too, collapsed on the couch. Alex hurried over to him, alarmed and worried, all of her attention now focused on the angel. “You’re hurt.”

“I’m fine.”

“You gotta send us back.” Dean pulled himself to his feet, and for the first time Alex saw that the bottle was empty.

Sam’s voice was quiet with disappointment. “Dean, look at him. He’s fried.”

“I never want to do that again,” Castiel got out, and Alex put her hand on his chest, pressing her grace against his. He pushed her hand away with a shake of his head.

“Bobby, you —”

“I’m still kicking, Anne Oakley. Be back good as new in . . . oh a decade or two.”

Alex frowned. “What happened? Bobby?”

“Your boyfriend needed a little extra juice. My soul was the only thing we had.” Bobby waved her concern off, and Alex’s frown deepened.

“And we screwed the pooch,” Dean finished sourly. “Bobby, I’m sorry.”

Bobby was about to respond, but a knock on the front door had him pausing. Sam gave them a confused look before going to answer it. Alex turned her attention back to Castiel, gingerly touching the wound in his chest. “What happened?” she repeated. “Who did this?”

“Rachel. He . . .” Castiel hesitated. “He betrayed me. He was working for Raphael.”

Alex frowned in sympathy, running a quick hand through his hair. “You need to make better friends,” she teased, pulling away. “Put Ezekiel as your lieutenant. He’s a good angel.”

Castiel just grunted.

“Yeah, yeah, that’s mine. Thanks.” Alex heard Sam closed the door, and turned her head to watch him return into the room, carrying a large brown package.

“What’s that?” Dean looked over at his brother as he set the package down.

“I don’t know.” Sam reached into his back pocket and pulled out a knife. “The guy said it’s been sitting at the post office for . . . well, forever.” He cut through the packing tape and opened the flaps. There was a yellow, faded letter inside, and he picked it up, eyes squinting in confusion as he read it. “ ‘Dear Sam, I got this address and date from your . . . thingamajig, and I thought the enclosed might come in handy.’ ” Sam set the letter down and pulled out a small black rectangle.

Alex stood up as she recognized it as Sam’s phone. “You left your phone in 1861?” she asked, walking over to the desk.

Sam discarded his phone on the desk and pulled out a large glass container. In it sat clumps of black powder.

“Is that what I think it is?” Bobby asked what everyone was thinking.

“Ashes of a phoenix,” Dean confirmed, and a large grin split his face. “You know what that means?”

“It means I didn’t get a soulonoscopy for nothing.”

“Yes. And it means we take the fight to her.” Dean took the bottle from Sam, studying the ashes. Sam took it carefully back and laid it back in the box.

Alex turned to look at Cas, but he was gone. The angel sighed. “I’m gonna go get changed,” she informed the three hunters. “Put on clean clothes, get the dust out of . . . well, everywhere.” Before anyone could say much of anything, she hurried upstairs.


	17. Mommy Dearest

**January 12th, 2012**

**Sioux Falls, South Dakota**

**W** hen Alex finally returned to the main floor of Bobby's house, the Winchesters were nowhere in sight. She mindlessly pulsed her grace out; they were in the basement. She hurried through the house and down the stairs to find Dean seated at the table to her left; Sam and Bobby stood facing him, all three deep in conversation.

“Meaning?” Bobby was asking.  

“Meaning I just had myself a little mishap a few minutes ago, and, uh, well, here. Look.” Dean scooped up a small amount of the phoenix ash an rubbed it on his arm.

“Whoa.” Sam tipped his in confusion. Bobby grunted in surprise as well.

“I mean, this stuff is suppose to burn the bejeezus out of Eve. Doesn’t even give me a sunburn.” Dean wiped the rest of the ash off on his jeans.

“Lore says it works,” Bobby countered.

“That’s always reliable,” Dean muttered. He picked up a white rag and wiped off his arm before turning back to his work.

“Well, you know what? Maybe it’s like, uh, — maybe it’s like silver or iron. You know? Hurts them, not us?”

Alex grunted in agreement with Sam’s words. “Iron’s a bitch.”

“Maybe,” Dean reluctantly conceded, “but a fat lot of good it does until we find this bitch.”

“I’m looking, but I’m thinking that maybe it’s time to make the call.” Sam and Bobby both looked down at Dean, and Alex raised an eyebrow.

“Why does it always have to be me that makes the call, huh?” Dean stood up defensively. “What about Alex? I- I mean, it’s not like Cas lives in my ass. The dude’s busy—”

“Cas,” Alex muttered, “Here. ASAP.”

A flutter of wings announced the angel’s arrival, and Dean spun around to see him, surprise on his face. “Cas,” he snapped, “get out of my ass!”

The angel’s head tipped. “I was never in your —” He cut off in confusion, eyes narrowing even more.

“Gay,” Alex coughed, not missing the look Dean shot her and the — very much still — confused gaze from the angel. Sam let out a small huff of amusement, and Alex smirked.

“Have you made any progress on Eve?” Castiel asked Dean. Alex rolled her shoulders, wings rustling, and the seraph flicked a wingtip at her in acknowledgment.

“Well we were just about to ask _you_ that,” Bobby huffed.

The seraph shook his head. “No, I’ve looked, but she’s hidden from me. She’s hidden from all angels.”

“Awesome.”

“You know,” Sam said slowly, “what we really need is an inside man.”

"What do you mean?”

“Something with claws and sympathy.”

“Like a friendly monster?” Dean scoffed, “Those are in short supply these days, don’t you think?”

“Sure,” Sam agreed, “but we’ve met one or two, right?”

“Maybe.”

“So we can find one.”

Castiel, deeming his part in this conversation over, nodded, and flared his wings. He was gone before anyone could protest. Alex rested her head against the stair railing with a sigh. “How the hell are we suppose to find a friendly monster?” she finally posed. “I mean, it’s not like we have them on speed dial.”

Sam hesitated, the shook his head. “I dunno. Look through our journals, maybe. Make a few calls. There has to be _something_.” And with that he disappeared past Alex and up the stairs.

 

 **I** t was sometime the next day. Alex was seated on the metal table pushed flat against the northern wall, wings curled around her as she mindlessly flipped through her journal for the umpteenth time. The other three hunters were also in the basement with her, all reading various books. Alex set down her journal and picked up Sam’s. His handwriting was less neat, but his entries were thorough. She skimmed through a page that detailed a ghost that had been mimicking fairy tales.

There was a rustle of wings, and Alex looked up to see Castiel. He wasn’t alone, and Alex stood up, feathers ruffling as she recognized the smell; strong, bloody, and a touch of cloves. Vampire.

“Lenore.” Sam’s voice was full of surprise. The vampire looked up at Sam in shock, then ducked past him under the stairs and into the dark corner. Sam followed. “Wait wait wait. Hey, hey.” Sam held out his hand in a calming gesture, and Alex squeezed past Dean and Bobby to see what was going on. “Lenore, stop.” At his words the vampire froze, eyes wide with panic. “We’re glad you’re here.”

“Been a long time,” Dean added. “You remember us?”

“I remember you,” Lenore got out, voice heavy with poison. “Your hunter friend tried to kill me.”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, uh, he turned into a vampire and I cut his head off,” Sam offered.

“Yeah. With razor wire,” Dean added. “Wicked.” Sam glanced over at his brother, and Dean looked away.

“Well that’s something,” the vampire scoffed. “What’s going on? Why am I here?”

“Well, um, that’s Cas. He’s our friend.” Sam pointed over Alex’s head, and she glanced back to see Castiel watching the vampire, face stoic, but feathers ruffled slightly in distaste. “And we need to talk to you,” Sam added. “About Eve.”

“Eve? I have nothing to say about Eve.” The vampire was shaking and covered in dirt, but she held her head defiantly.

“You sure about that?”

“I’m trying to stay away from her, believe me.”

“Where’s your nest?”

“Gone. They couldn’t fight it anymore. It’s her voice in our heads. What it does to us. So they left. They started killing again.”

“But not you.”

“Don’t look so impressed.” Something about the way she spoke reminded Alex of Meg, and she felt her wings flare up slightly in distrust. The vampire continued scornfully, “I was hiding in a basement. Not exactly Club Med. You don’t know how hard it is — not to give in. Everyone gives in.”

“Alright, so this psychic two-way you’ve got going, does that mean you know where Mom’s camped out?”

“You’ve got to be kidding me. You want me to tell you where she is? You do know she could be listening to us right now. I might as well be a video camera. What are you thinking?”

“So we don’t have the element of surprise,” Bobby grunted. “We’re still going in.”

“You’re crazy. I can’t help you.”

“Can’t or won’t?” The vampire swung her gaze back up to Sam, who continued. “Look, it’s a clear as day. You still give a crap. You don’t want to kill. And you don’t want this whole planet dead.”

“You actually believe you can stop her?”

“Just tell us where she is.”

Lenore hesitated, but finally gave in. “Grants Pass, Oregon. And know she knows you’re coming.”

“Well let’s go on.”

“Hang on.” Lenore reached out to stop them. “I didn’t tell you this out of the goodness of heart. I need something.”

“What?”

“Kill me.” She stepped towards Sam, eyes pleading.

“Lenore.”

“Look, we’ll lock you down till this whole thing’s over, okay?” Dean promised. “Witness protection, you’ll be safe.”

“You don’t get it.” The vampire shook her head. “It’s not about that. I’m dangerous. I can hear her voice all the time.”

“You’re not like the rest of them.”

“I’m _exactly_ like the rest of them. I fed. I couldn’t help it. The girl couldn’t have been more than sixteen, Sam. I’ll do it again. I can’t stop, not anymore. You have to. Please.”

“Lenore.”

Castiel was behind the vampire in the blink of an eye, wings pushing him forward. He placed his hand on the back of her head, and the vampire screamed as his grace pulsed into her. White light exploded out of her eyes and mouth, and then she crumpled to the ground, dead. Alex wrinkled her nose as the smell of burnt skin, and looked down to see wisps of smoke billowing off of the darkened flesh.

“We needed to move this along,” Castiel told them, not even looking down at the body.

Both Winchesters still looked surprise. “Well, you didn’t have to kill her,” Dean finally said. Before Castiel could respond, he turned around and walked back off towards the front of the basement. “Come on. We’re pretty much packed. Cas. You gonna give us a lift?”

“Of course.” Castiel nodded curtly and walked off after the the Winchester, leaving Alex and Sam to follow.

Dean threw two more shotguns into the mostly-packed duffle bag before shoving the shotgun shells into his pocket. “Okay.” He let Sam sling one of the bag over his shoulder before taking the other. “I think we’re ready.”

The world spun, and wind rushed through her feathers, and then Alex was standing out in the sun. She looked around, listening to the birds chirp and the sound of children laughing.

“Well,” Dean finally admitted, “I was expecting more Zombieland, less Pleasantville.”

Alex grunted in agreement, watching as an elderly couple walked past. They were standing on the corner of a grassy park, the town all around them.

“Well, just because it looks quiet doesn’t mean it is,” Bobby warned. “Especially if she’s got a clue we’re coming.”

“Yeah, well if she is here I’m glad we got Smity McSmiterton on our squad.” Alex snorted at Dean’s stupid nickname, and he continued. “Okay, where do we start?”

“I’m gonna need a computer.”

Dean nodded over at Bobby. “Okay, yeah.” He looked around before quickly crossing the street. Alex hurried after him, wings pulled in tight as she hesitantly reached out. Her grace refused to move far out, and she pulled it back in in confusion, hesitating. The other four men passed her, and Castiel snapped her out of her thoughts with a flick of his wing.

She followed them down the street to an Ervin’s Diner. They sat around a large table, Alex between Sam and Cas. She felt the seraphim’s wings curl around her shoulder, and she rolled her eyes; it was painfully obvious that Castiel still harbored a grudge towards the younger Winchester. To sate him, she shifted her chair closer. They ordered their food, and then Sam dug into his bag and handed Bobby an iPad.

 

 **I** t was only after their food came out that Bobby spoke up. “Alright,” he finally said, “I finally got into the police databases. No thanks to this.” He gestured frustratedly at the iPad. “I asked for a computer.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “It is a computer.”

“No, a computer has buttons,” Bobby retorted.

Their conversation was interrupted by the waitress. “Can I get you anything?” she asked sweetly.

Dean shook his head, “No thanks,” he insisted. “We’re good.” The waitress nodded and walked away, and Dean turned his head to look at Bobby.

“Anything?” Sam prompted.

“Oh, nickel and dime stuff, nothing weird. Basically a dead end.” He looked between the two Winchesters. “You think Vampira was lying?”

“I’ll search the town,” Castiel told them. “Give me a moment.” He pulled his wings in, and Alex braced herself to feel his grace pulse outwards. Nothing happened, and she looked up at Castiel to see him staring at the table.

Dean cleared his throat. “You’re still here.”

“Yeah, I’m still here.” However, the angel sounded confused. He tried again, vessel straining with effort, but nothing happened. Alex hesitantly reached out with her own as well. Nothing. “Cas . . .”

The angel suddenly thrust his wings down, but he couldn’t even fly. They flapped again, and Alex stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. The angel frowned at the table. “Something’s wrong.”

“What, are you stuck?”

“I’m blocked.” Castiel continued to stare at the tabletop. “I’m powerless.”

“You’re joking.” Dean looked between Castiel and Alex. “He’s joking.”

“Something in this town is, uh, affecting me. I assume it’s Eve.”

“So what? Mommy’s making you limp?” Dean grunted when Alex kicked him under the table, but kept his gaze on Castiel.

“Figuratively, yes.”

“How?”

“I don’t know, but she is.” The angel’s voice remained calm, but his wings arched sharply out of irritation, both at Dean’s questioning and at his lack of power.

“Well, that’s great, because without your power, you’re basically a baby in a trench coat.”

Castiel opened his mouth to respond, but decided against it. He turned his attention towards the far wall, wings pulled in tight and feathers ruffled in petulance. Alex frowned at Dean’s words as well.

Sam cleared his throat. “I think you hurt his feelings.”

Dean ignored him. “What about you?” He kicked Alex under the table, and she pursed her lips as he caught her in the shins. “You out of juice?”

“Yeah. Of course I am. If something managed to block him, there’s no way I slipped by.” Alex flicked Castiel in the head with her wing to get his attention. He turned to look at her, but completely ignored Dean.

Bobby saved anyone from responding. “I got something here, maybe. Had to go federal to get it. Call went out of a local office to the CDC last night.”

“About what?” both Alex and Sam asked at the same time. Castiel turned his attention away from the hunters once again.

“A Dr. Silver called in an illness he couldn’t identify. Patient was a twenty-five year old, African-American, name Ed Bright.” He turned the iPad to they could see the man’s driver’s license.

“Well, that’s not much to go on.”

Bobby let out a snort. “Well, it’s the only lead we got, so —”

 “So beggars can’t be choosers, right?” Dean finished sourly. “I get it. Alright, let’s finish up.”

 

 **F** ifteen minutes later Alex found herself following Dean and Castiel up to a building. “E-Excuse me.” Dean’s voice snapped her out of her thoughts, and she looked up to see the hunter talking to a young woman. “Hi, uh, is Dr. Silver in today?” He jerked a thumb at Castiel. “My friend is very sick.”

Castiel blinked when he realized Dean was talking about him. “I have a, uh, a painful burning sensation,” he lied, wings flicking uncomfortably.

“Oh, well, he’s out. Sorry.”  
 “Do you happen to know where he is?” Dean persisted.

“He hasn’t called in,” the woman informed him before looking at Castiel. “You might want to get yourself some ointment.” And with that, she walked away.

“What kind of doctor calls the CDC and then goes AWOL the next day? Let’s have a look, shall we?” Dean glanced over his shoulder to make sure the woman was gone before leading the way down the street and through the alley.

They circled around to the back of the office, and Dean knelt in front of the the door as he pulled out his lock-picking kit. He started to pick the lock.

After only a few seconds Castiel spoke. “Is this going to take long time?”

Dean looked over at the angel, mouth opening with a witty retort that died in his mouth. His gaze focused on something behind them, eyes narrowing slightly in confusion. He pushed his way past Castiel, who tipped his head in confusion. “What is it?” he queried.

Dean bent down and brushed his finger against a red drop on the ground. Then he moved towards a wooden door that led to a small outside shed. Alex saw there was a smudge of blood across the handle as well, and let her angel blade slip down into her hands as Dean kicked open the door. “Oh.” Dean pulled the corner of his mouth up into a grimace.

A roll of clear plastic sheeting and duct tape concealed what was obviously a body. Dean reluctantly pulled the sheeting away to reveal the corpse, dark skin viscid and peeling. The young angel wrinkled her nose at the smell of decay that was already present. Castiel was then first to speak. “It’s the patient Ed Bright.”

“Well what kind of doctor calls the CDC then stuffs the gooey corpse in the shed?” Dean posed.

Castiel tipped his head in confusion, assuming the question had been meant for him. “I don’t understand what’s going on here,” he insisted.

“Well, I do know one thing about the body. We’re gonna need some kerosene.” Dean closed the shed door and stepped back.

Alex, however, crossed her arms. “We’re gonna burn the body here? In the middle of town?” she challenged. “Really?”

“Well what do you suggest?” Dean countered. “Just leave him here?”

“Look. We got five hours till sunset, okay? Let’s just do what we normally do. If we haven’t found anything else, we’ll come back for him tonight and burn him outside of town.” The young angel shrugged. “I mean, we kinda of have bigger fish to fry here.”

Dean hesitated before letting out curt nod. “Yeah, okay.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out his cellphone before walking away. Alex trailed after him as he talked in hushed voices with his brother. After only a few seconds he hung up. “Sam and Bobby are still at the doctor’s place. He’s gone AWOL. Come on. We’re gonna meet up at Bright’s house.”

 

 **W** ithin five minutes the three of them were sitting in the stolen car on the corner of 7th and Maple. Alex was leaning her head against the side of the door, staring at the old gothic-style house in front of her. A car drove by, and she looked up expectantly, but when it didn’t stop she fell back against the seat with a suppressed sigh. “We’ve been here for five minutes,” she whined.

“Yeah,” Dean agreed, sarcasm lining his voice. “Five whole minutes.” He turned in his seat to glance back at the young angel. “You’re worse than Bobby, you know?”

“Well, I learned from the best,” Alex quipped back. Castiel watched their exchange closely, and she sat up, leaning forward to pull a long hair off his shirt collar. She dropped it in the backseat as Castiel relaxed, that brief moment of attention enough to sate him.

“Hey.” Dean threw open the door, and Alex looked behind her to see that a car had pulled up on the other side of the corner, and Sam and Bobby were now moving towards them. She threw open her door as well as Dean raised his voice so all could hear. “So we’ve got a missing doctor and a oozy patient, huh?”

“Yeah,” Sam agreed, stopping in front of the three of them. “Plot thickens.”

“Well, let’s go see what Ed’s roommates have to say.”

“Does Ed Bright have a brother?” Castiel suddenly asked, and Alex glanced over at him to see that his wings were spread in confusion. His attention, however, was fully focused on the house.

“No.” Bobby firmly shook his head. “Why?”

“So that’s not his twin.” The angel nodded his head towards the large bay window. Alex followed his gaze to see a man standing in the window. He looked identical to the man they had found in the shed; dark skin, thick black hair — he even wore the same Bruisers jersey with the number 21. As they watched, the man looked desperately out the window, then bent over in a painful cough, his breath fogging against the glass pane.

“So what,” Sam finally asked, “shifter?”

Bobby shook his head. “I don’t know what we’re looking at.”

“Alright, me and Dean are going in. You three stay here and watch the house. If anything comes out, shoot it.”

“Yeah,” Dean agreed. “Best guess, silver bullets.”

“I’m fairly unpracticed with firearms,” Castiel informed them.

Dean cocked an eyebrow. “You know who whines? Babies.” He started to walk away, and Sam followed.

“I’m coming with.” Alex reached into the waistband of her jeans and pulled out her gun. She checked the magazine before letting it fall into her hand. “Chances are you’re going to need more hands in there than you are out here.” She dug around in her jacket pocket and pulled out a second mag, this one filled with silver bullets.

Castiel’s lips twitched into a small frown, but Dean just nodded. “Yeah. Okay.”

“Great.” Alex snapped in the magazine before following the Winchesters across the lawn. They quickly ascended the porch, and Alex stood back while Dean kicked in the door. The Winchesters burst into the house, guns raised, and then they froze.

Alex pushed her way in between them to see Ed Bright laying on the rug, dead and rotting. Her confusion increased tenfold to see that there were four other Ed Brights, all identical, all dead. Their skin was peeling, and dried blood clung to their clothing. “What the hell?”

“Okay . . . don’t . . . . touch anything,” Dean told them, at a loss for words himself.

Alex turned to look back up at him, but movement had her spinning back around. “Hey, hey. Back here.” Sam pushed his way past her to hurry over to the far Ed, who was weakly trying to drink from his silver flask. “Come here.” He let out a wet cough as Sam knelt in front of him. “Talk to us,” Sam insisted. “What is this?”

“Hey, Ed?” Dean added, squatting down next to his brother. “Ed. What’s going on?”

“What?” Ed forced out. “I’m not Ed.”

Sam picked a wallet up off of the table and opened in. Alex saw his heavy brow lower, and she leaned over his shoulder to see the driver’s license. Marshall Todd. Pale skin, blonde hair. Nothing like what they were seeing.

“What’s wrong with me?” Marshall groaned out, curling up in the chair.

“Uh, nothing.” Sam handed the wallet to Dean. “You’re okay. You’re okay, alright? We’re gonna get you help.”

“L-Let me ask you something. Do I — do all of us — do we look like Ed?”

“What?” Dean shook his head. “No. No no no no no, of course not. You, uh, have a fever. You’re hallucinating.”

The man started to shake, a muffled sound rumbling in his chest, and Sam leaned closer. “Marshall, Marshall. Hey.” He brought the man’s attention back to him. “What happened here?”

“Am I gonna die?”

“No, you’re not going to die, okay? Now you need to talk to us. It’s important.”

The man tried to take a sip from his flask with shaky hands, but coughed, spewing the liquid across the table.“E-Ed was feeling bad,” Marshall began, curling up even tighter, “so I took him to the doctor.” He convulsed once. “I think — now we’re all sick.”

Dean snorted. “You think?”

“And before you got sick, before Ed got sick, do you do anything?” Sam persisted. “Did you go anywhere? Hey. I need you to focus for me.”

Marshall’s eyes focused on Sam for a brief second before glazing back over. “I dunno. S-Some bar.”

“What bar?”

“Eighth s-street, I guess.” Blood dripped down Marshall’s bottom lip, and he weakly wiped it away with another cough.

“Eighth street,” Sam repeated. “Um, did anything happen at the bar? Did you — did you see anything? Did you meet anyone?”

“Anything strange?” Alex agreed. The man coughed again, and her feathers ruffled.

“Look, an ambulance is on its way,” Sam promised.

“A girl,” Marshall gasped out. His limbs jerked, and his eyes fell shut.

“A girl? Okay, and?”

“A girl in white.”

“Good, okay. What did the girl in white do?” Dean watched as Marshall gasped for breath, head falling back against the armchair. “Marshall. Wh-What did she do to Ed? Marshall?”

Marshall convulsed one more time and drew in one final, wet breath before falling against the chair. Alex watched as the life in his eyes faded away. “He’s gone.” She slid her Colt back into her jeans. “We, uh, we should get out of here.”

Sam and Dean stood up, and Alex led the way out of the fraternity house. Bobby and Castiel were standing at the bottom of the steps, and Alex descended to stand by her mate.

“I don’t get it,” Dean told them, following Sam down the steps. “What, a bunch of regular Joes wake up shifters? What the hell?”

“Shifters usually run in the family,” Bobby agreed. “This looks like an infection. Nobody touch anything?”

Sam and Dean exchanged looks, and the eldest Winchester grimaced. “Well, I am bathing in Purell tonight.”

Alex snorted in amusement, but self-consciously wiped her hands off on her jeans.

Sam cleared his throat and turned the topic back to the pressing matter at hand. “So, he said he met a girl.”

“It’s got to be Eve,” Dean agreed.

Castiel’s face twisted in confusion. “But why would she do this?”

“Mommy monster,” Bobby suggested. “Make more.”

“No. No no no.” Dean firmly shook his head. “Cas has a good point. I mean, if she were going to make a shifter army, why make one that’s sick, gooey, and dying?”

“Maybe she’s a little rusty?” Alex suggested.

Bobby shrugged. “Add that to the pile of crap that don’t make sense.”

“So should we hit the bar?”

Dean nodded in agreement. “Yeah. I mean, that’s where he said this all went down, right?” He walked over to the stolen car. “Meet you guys there?”

“Yeah.” Sam and Bobby walked away, and Alex followed Dean and Castiel into the car.

 

 **T** he bar was all the way across town, and it took them on the better side of twenty minutes to find it. Alex leaned against the cold metal car door, shoulder pressed securely into Castiel’s side, his wing curled around her. A biting wind whipped past them, and she closed her eyes, waiting for it to fade. Dean stood on the other side of Castiel, seemingly unaffected by the cold air.

Sam and Bobby pulled up within a minute, and Dean led the way towards the bar. He pushed his way through the glass double doors and twisted the handle of the wooden doors. With a frown, he twisted them again then pulled away. “Locked.”

Sam nodded, and without a single word, both Winchesters leaned back and kicked open the door. It splintered open, and Alex was about to rebuke them, but the smell of death stopped her in her tracks. Her eyes flitted across the bar, silently taking in the massacre before her.

Dean walked in, looking down at the bodies he passed. “Well the sheriff’s a moot, but still,” he finally said. “You think he’d notice _this_ many missing people.”

Alex grunted in agreement, following Sam in. She carefully stepped over a shattered beer bottle, eyes focusing on the gaping wound in a woman’s neck.

“We got a vamp over here,” Dean called, and Alex looked over to see him pulling back the lips of a woman with a dish towel. Sharp, pointed fangs were the give away, ivory white stained red with blood.

“Great.” Alex skirted around a large man and walked up a step to a set of tables.

“Nope.” Once again, Dean’s voice had her turning. “Scratch that. We got a wraith.” He held up the same woman’s arm to display a dark spike protruding out from her palm, broken and bloody. “What the hell? What has teeth and a spike?”

Bobby shook his head. “Never seen that in my life.”

“Oh, great.” Dean dropped the woman’s arm in disgust. “So Eve’s making hybrids now?”

“Looks like,” Bobby Singer agreed.

“Yeah, the question is why. I mean what does she want with the — what do you call these?”

Alex and Sam shrugged, and Bobby grunted at his fair question. “Well, congrats. You discovered it, you get to name it.”

Dean paused for only a second. “Jefferson Starships,” he insisted. He must have seen everyone else’s confusion because he elaborated, “Huh, because they’re horrible and hard to kill.” He grinned at his cleverness, and Alex just rolled her eyes, unable to help but find herself just a little amused.

“Well, it looks like the whole bar has been turned into the —”

“Jefferson Starships,” Dean crowed.

Sam rolled his eyes. “Fine,” he relented. “But why are all of the . . . Starships dead?”

“I can’t say, but it looks like they all burned up.”

“Burned up, like?” Dean watched as Bobby walked over towards the door, using a towel to examine one of the corpses.

“Like a high fever, like the flu.”

“What the hell is going on here?” Dean walked over to the back of the bar, kneeling down to study another body. “Does every monster in this town have the motaba virus?”

Thundering footsteps were the only warning before three men came thundering into the bar. “Hands where I can see them!” the first one bellowed, gun raised. Alex spun around in surprise; a quick glance showed them to be cops.

“This is not what it looks like,” Castiel told them, wings calmly held against his back.

Bobby was a little more impatient. “Look, we’re the Feds,” he insisted.

“Yeah, well, Feds are not allowed to do _this_.” The sheriff motioned towards them with his gun. “Cuff ‘em.”

Alex stepped forward, her own wings flaring up sharply in distaste. “How stupid are you?” she challenged. “These guys have been dead for, what, at least twelve hours?”

“Eighteen,” Castiel corrected.

Alex flicked her wing at him in acknowledgement. “Go touch ‘em. They’re cold. We know as much as you do about this.”

The Sheriff strolled up to her. “Turn around.”

Alex rolled her her shoulders back, but with a warning from Bobby, reluctantly did so, placing her hands behind her back. Metal cuffs closed around her wrist, and she was led out of the bar alongside Sam Winchester.

Two squad cars sat outside, and she and Sam were put into one. She watched as Bobby and Castiel went in the other before craning her neck to see if she could see Dean. He wasn’t there, and she shifted in her seat to get comfortable. At least he would be able to get them out.

The sheriff slid into the front seat, and Alex leaned forward, resting her cheek against the bullet-proof glass. “You know it wasn’t us,” she told him casually, fingers toying with the chain connecting the two cuffs. She fruitlessly tried to feel for her grace, but it stubbornly remained within her skin. When the sheriff didn’t respond, she fell into silence.

 

 **S** he was roughly shoved through the double doors, and the young angel let out a growl of protest.

“Look, if we can just make a phone call,” Sam was saying, “we can get this all straightened out.”

“Straighten out a massacre?” the sheriff snorted. “I’d like to see you try.”

“I told you we didn’t kill anyone,” Alex snapped. She shook off the officer that held her, lengthening her step to follow closer to Sam and the sheriff. She heard the officer protest, and then hands grabbed her arm. Already in a bad mood, Alex opened her mouth to snap when suddenly something caught her eye. Her wings flared out in alarm as she stared at the security footage of them on the large tv. Their captors eyes were glowing.

Sam must have seen it too, because he suddenly exploded. He whipped his head back, the back of his skull colliding with the sheriff’s nose. The sheriff cried out and fell back against a desk. “J-Jefferson Starships,” he managed to get out as he spun around.

Alex suddenly went limp. Her deadweight pulled her out of the grasp of the officer, and she twisted as she fell, tangling her legs with his. She sharply rolled to the side, knocking him off balance. He hit the ground with a thud, and Alex struggled back to her feet in time to watch the third officer stumble away from Bobby.

The officer in front of her pulled himself back to his feet, and Alex took a step back, ready to fight if necessary. Suddenly wings pushed their way in front of her vision, and Alex spluttered through the feathers as Castiel positioned himself between her and the creature. She struggled, and in response Castiel pulled his wings tighter back around her, trapping her between himself and the wall, keeping her safe.

There was the sound of metal sliding through bone, and the stench of blood filled the air. Castiel’s wings dropped, and Alex was able to see Dean standing in front of them, machete in hand. He stepped away towards the other Starships, leaving Alex to push her way out from behind Castiel, just in time to see the Winchester swing the machete through the other Starship’s head. It slid through the skull easily, and the body crumpled to the ground.

All the while, the sheriff had managed to pin Sam against the far wall, a loud snarl echoing through his chest. Dean yanked him back by the collar, throwing him to the ground and raising his blade.

“Dean wait!” Sam stumbled forward, eyes wide. Dean stopped in confusion; then he nodded. He stepped forward and brought his foot down on the Starship’s face, knocking him unconscious.

Bobby pulled himself to his feet, tossing his handcuffs off to the side. “Help me with this one, would ya?” he asked Dean, standing in front of the Starship, arms crossed.

“Bag’s out in the car.” Dean handed Singer the blade before walking off. Bobby tossed Alex a ring of keys.

It hit her stomach, and Alex stared down at them. “Was I suppose to catch that?” she asked dryly, wiggling her hands that were still behind her back.

“Shut up.”

Alex grunted, but knelt down. She pulled her hands up and under her legs before picking up the keys and turning to Castiel. “Turn around,” she instructed, unlocking his cuffs. She handed the keys to Castiel, who in turn uncuffed her.

Alex took them back and walked over to Sam. He was still breathing heavily, and his hair was a mess, strands sticking to his forehead. Alex brushed it out of his face before freeing his hands. The hunter rubbed his wrists, nodding down at her. “Thanks.”

“Yeah.” Alex stepped back as the doors opened. She watched as Bobby and Sam pulled the Starship to his feet and dragged him away, Dean following close behind.

Alex hesitated, glancing back at Castiel, who was still standing beside the two bodies. Blood was splattered across his trench coat, stretching linearly from his shoulder down to his left lapel. “You didn’t need to do that,” she finally said. “I was handling it.”

She expected a rebuke, for the angel to say that he was only protecting her, but instead all she got was, “I apologize.” Then Castiel stepped past her, disappearing down the hall. With a small sigh, Alex followed.

 

 **B** obby and Dean already had the Starship chained in the interrogation room. He was slumped forward in the chair, silver bonds keeping him in place. Alex joined the Winchesters behind the one-way mirror, one eye on Bobby, who was leaning against the mirror in front of her, silver knife in hand, and the other on the angel in the doorway, dark blue wings still except for the occasional unconscious twitch.

It took only a minute or so before the Starship woke up. It started with the twitch of his left leg, once, twice, then he raised his head, eyes coming to focus on Bobby.

The old hunter took that as his cue, pushing himself off of the wall. “Well, I’ll say this, you’re the healthiest looking specimen I’ve seen all day.”

“I take my vitamins,” the monster quipped back, voice gruff and slightly groggy.

“So you want to tell us what’s going on here, hmm?” Bobby leaned down, head level with the Starship’s. It tilted its head away from the silver knife, but overall looked fairly unimpressed. “So you boys are Eve’s clean up crew,” the hunter continued. “Make sure the word doesn’t get out? Is that why you snatched up the doctor?”

Instead of answering, the Starship just sighed. “You’re so wasting your time.” He added with a scornful laugh, “You _stupid_ head of cattle.”

There was a noise, and Alex spun around. The Winchesters must have heard it too, because they exchanged looks. “More Starships.” Dean hurried out of the interrogation room. Sam hesitated a moment before following. “Stay here,” he told Castiel, who nodded curtly.

Alex moved after the Winchesters, who were standing in the main room. “I’ll go this way,” she suggested, motioning off to the left.

They nodded, and Alex walked over to the green duffle bag and pulled out a machete. She watched Sam and Dean disappear down the hallway before walking away.

 

 **T** he left side was mostly offices. Alex gave each one a through check before moving on to the far office. She tried the door: locked. She took a step back before lunging forward, the heel of her boot hitting right next to the lock. The door flew open, and the young angel grinned as she stepped inside, gun raised. However, the office was completely empty. “Huh.” With a frown, Alex left, hoping the Winchesters were having better luck than she was.

Castiel had made his way into the interrogation room when Alex returned. A glance through the one-way mirror showed that not much had been accomplished; however, the Winchesters were still missing.

The Starship let out a groan as Bobby slid the knife down the side of his face, but kept his attention on the mirror. “You really think that’s gonna make me talk?” he chuckled.

“Something will.” Bobby straightened back up, a glance thrown towards the seraph the only outward sign that he was at a loss as to what to do.

There were footsteps, and Alex peered out of the room, interest peaked. Castiel must have heard them too, because he brushed past Alex.

“We got a couple of hungry human boys here,” Dean announced, leading the way back into the main station. Two young boys followed, probably close to the ages of fourteen and nine. Sam picked up the rear, closing the door behind him. “Come on, guys.” Dean led them away.

“The rest of the station’s clear,” Alex called after him. Dean raised a hand over his head in acknowledgement. “And bring me something too!”

“We found them in the jail cell,” Sam told her and Castiel. “They seem to be human — ran through a couple dozen tests or so.”

“That’s good. First normal people we’ve met all day.” Alex watched as Sam walked across the room to where Dean had the boys sitting by one of the desks. The youngest Winchester pulled up a chair and sat down. “So you two never heard them talk?” he asked, obviously restarting an earlier conversation. “Never . . . about a mother? Someone named Eve?”

The older boy shook his head. “It was just Ryan and me there,” he insisted.

“And your folks?”

“Cops said we were next. Said we were food.”

“You have any other family?” Dean tried again.

The teenager paused. “An uncle,” he finally said. “In Merritt.”

“Merritt, that’s like, what? Fifteen miles out of town? Okay. We’ll get you there.”

At those words Castiel strolled forward, wings flaring out. “Dean, can I have a word?” His voice was cold, and his displeasure crackled through the air.

Dean stood up and Castiel led him a few steps away. Alex stepped forward as well, curious as to what had the angel so riled up. The seraph lowered his voice. “We need to find Eve now.”

“Yeah. Go. Me and Sam just gotta make a milk run.”

“We need your help here,” Castiel rephrased; his wings fluttered in frustration when Dean shook his head.

“Hold your water. We’ll be back in a few.” And with that, Dean turned to go.

“Dean. _Dean_.” Castiel stopped him. “Millions of lives are at stake here. Not just two. Stay focused.”

“Are you kidding?”

“There’s a greater purpose here.”

“You know what?” Dean cut him off. “I-I’m getting tired of the — the greater purposes, okay? I think what I’d like to do now is save a couple of kids. If you don’t mind.” When Castiel didn’t respond, Dean nodded. “We’ll catch up,” he promised, turning back to Sam and the two brothers. “Okay guys, let’s go.” He walked over to the door. “Come on.” And with that, he left. Sam and and the two boys followed, and Castiel let his wings flare up in anger.

Alex stepped forward, flicking one out to snap him out of it. “Let them go.”

“There’s a bigger picture here,” Castiel repeated, feathers ruffling out in annoyance. “What’s the good in saving two if thousands die?” He stepped forward, out of her reach, and Alex let her wings fall back against her side.

“Where’d they go?” Bobby’s voice had Alex jumping, and she looked up at the hunter.

“They, uh, they went to take the boys home. Or, uh, to their uncles. Dean said it was only fifteen miles out.”

“Huh.” Bobby looked over at Castiel, who was staring out the window. He stepped towards the angel. “They won’t take long.”

“You don’t know that. They may find more wayward orphans along the way.”

Alex cocked an eyebrow; that was the closest to sarcasm she had ever heard Castiel get. Bobby felt the same way. “Oh, don’t get cute,” he huffed.

“Right.” Castiel turned away from the window to face the hunter. “Pardon me for highlighting their crippling and dangerous empathetic response with ‘sarcasm.’ ” He made sure to emphasis the word with air quotes. “It was a bad idea, letting them go.”

Bobby snorted. “Come on. You don't tell Sam and Dean Winchester to do squat. They do what they gotta. You know what. Anyways, if we want to find Eve, we need coordinates. So we can stand here bellyaching, or we can go poke the pig till it squeals. Thoughts?”

Castiel blinked, and his wings dropped back down to his side. He brushed past the hunter towards the interrogation room. Bobby followed, and Alex stepped back to let them pass. “I’m gonna hit the vending machine,” she told them. “You got a dollar?”

Bobby didn’t respond, and the young angel shrugged. “Fine. I’ll figure it out myself.” She stalked across the room and down the hall, flipping on the lights so she could see. Against the far wall sat two vending machines, and she hungrily approached. “Huh. What do I want?” she wondered aloud, ignoring the painfully loud scream that resonated through the halls. She felt along the side of the machine, frowning when she found the lock. Tubular. Can’t pick that with a torque and rake.

Giving up that idea, Alex pulled out her gun, retreated three steps, and fired one shot. The glass shattered, falling to the floor.

“What the hell?” A second later Bobby came running down the hall. He stopped when he saw her. “Really?”

“I was hungry,” Alex defended. “You didn’t give me money.”

“That better have been a normal bullet.”

Alex looked down at her gun. “Oops.”

“Idjit.” Bobby walked away. “Bring me a Snickers, would you?”

Alex rolled her eyes, but stuck her gun back into her jeans before walking back to the machine. She carefully retrieved the silver bullet and pocketed it; after all, silver was expensive. Then she grabbed two small bags of chips and a Snickers bar for Bobby before walking back down the hall.

“You know,” she heard the Starship scoff as she approached, “she can see you right now. And you’re just making her mad.”

Bobby stopped in front of the monster. “Then tell the bitch to come get me,” he challenged.

“I need five minutes alone with him.” Castiel turned his head from where he was leaning against the near wall, wingtips flicking once in annoyance before stilling.

“What for?” Bobby stepped out of the room to look at the angel. “Cas, your batteries are dead.”

“Give me five minutes.”

Bobby looked between Castiel and Alex before shrugging. “Alright. Fine.” He walked over to Alex, and Castiel stepped into the room.

“Snickers.” Alex held out the candy bar to the hunter, who accepted it with a grunt. “Don’t underestimate him,” she added, following him over to one of the desks. “He’s a warrior of heaven. I’m sure he’s got some tricks up his sleeve.” She jumped up onto the desk and wrangled open one of the chip bags.

Bobby just grunted again, reaching into his pocket to pull out his flask. In one quick movement he unscrewed the cap and brought it up to his lips.

A scream had him pulling it away. Alex stuffed a potato chip in her mouth as the Starship groaned in pain. She heard Castiel’s quiet, whispered voice, too low to make out words, and then another long scream.

Only a minute later Castiel stepped out of the room, using a white rag to wipe away the blood on his hand. Alex pulled her wings in tight at the sight, once again reminded of just how terrifying and powerful he was.

“Eve’s at 25 Buckley Street,” Castiel informed them, wings draped across his back, calm and loose like nothing had happened. “You can call Sam and Dean.” He looked down at his hands, which were still stained completely red with blood.

Bobby looked over at her, and Alex just shrugged. The hunter screwed back on the cap of his flask, reaching for his phone, but Alex was quicker. She whipped out her cell and dialed Sam’s number. A few seconds passed before he answered. “Hey.”

“Hey-o.” Alex shifted on the desk, a grin on her face. “So Cas got an address out of the, uh, the Starship. Where are you?”

“About five minutes out.”

“Okie dokie. Awesome. See you then.” She snapped her phone shut before Sam could respond. “They’ll be here in five minutes.”

 

 **T** hey were there in three. The door swung open as Dean pushed his way through, followed by his brother. “What did you find?”

“Got an address. 25 Buckley Street.” Alex pointed towards the interrogation room where the Starship — albeit headless — still sat.

The Winchesters followed her motion. “Rigorous interrogation, huh?” Dean finally asked, stepping away from the one-way mirror.

“Well, we got a location.” Bobby stepped forward, sawed-off resting casually over his shoulder. “Now we just got to get close enough to take a shot.”

“Alright. Well, let’s all take one.” Dean dug into his pockets and pulled out six shotgun shells. He handed one to Sam, Bobby, and Alex. “Load ‘em up, make ‘em count,” he added as he handed one to Castiel. The angel studied it for a second, head tipping slightly to the left in curiosity. Dean pocketed the other two casings.

Alex sat down on the desk by Sam, digging through the green duffle bag for her own shotgun. “Here.” Sam reached behind him to retrieve her gun, and Alex accepted it with a small noise of thanks. She flipped the release lever to the right before folding it in half and sliding her shell into the chamber. She snapped the two halves back together, barely letting a smile grace her lips at the satisfying click.

“Let’s go.” Dean threw the machete into the duffle bag along with the silver chains before closing it and throwing it over his shoulder.

 

 **F** ive minutes later they were standing on the corner of Buckley and Sawyer. “You got to be kidding me,” Dean grumbled. “She’s been there the whole time?”

Alex ran her eyes over the white exterior of the diner they had eaten in just that afternoon. “Wow,” she agreed.

“Why’d she even let us in?” Sam added. “Or out?”

“Well there’s just one way to find out.” Dean strolled over, stopping only when Bobby pulled him backwards.

“What, just stroll in there?” the hunter snapped. “We don't know who’s human and who’s her.”

Dean shrugged Bobby’s hand off. “Well, there’s one way to draw her out. Me and Sam will go in. You three stay here.”

“Dean.”

Dean cut Bobby off. “Look. If we don’t get a shot off, you two better.”

The hunter scoffed. “That’s the plan?”

“Yeah, pretty much.” Sam handed Bobby his duffle bag, and the old hunter took it with a grumble.

The two Winchesters crossed the streets, and Alex shifted her weight, uncomfortable with the fact that they were walking straight into danger. “Think they’ll be alright?” she dared to ask.

Bobby didn’t answer, and after a few seconds Castiel said, “It’s unlikely.” Alex shifted closer to her angel, fingers tightening around the barrel of her shotgun.

 

 **A** minute passed. Then two. “Hey.” Alex stepped forward towards the curb, heart racing as the shutters on the diner’s windows suddenly all closed. “Something’s going on in there.”

“We got a bigger problem.” The sound of a duffle bag hitting the ground had her spinning around to see four men approaching from the left, malicious intent in their eyes. Bobby had drawn a machete, and Alex hurried forward to do the same, sliding to a stop when she saw Castiel’s blade slip into his hands, wings flared out. She quickly did the same, fingers tightening around the warm metal handle.

“Four more.” Castiel’s wings flicked to their right, and Alex followed it to four other Starships. “Alex. With Bobby.”

“You’re not taking them all on your own,” Bobby scoffed, taking only the briefest moment to glare over at the angel.

“He’ll be fine.” Alex stepped in between them, eyes flitting between both groups of creatures. “He’s stronger than he looks,” she added with a whisper. The flick of feathers against hers told her that he had heard.

One of the Starships rushed towards them, and Bobby stepped up to meet him, dodging a punch and knocking the Starship past him. Alex shoved her blade into its chest, watching in satisfaction as the creature’s face lit up with a bright light. She pulled back, and it crumpled to the ground, dead. Screams told her that Castiel was already engaged in battle, and she ran after Bobby, twisting the blade in her hand. She stepped over a head, plunging her weapon into another Starship’s neck, spinning free before it even hit the ground.

“More on the way.” Bobby let out a grunt as he shoved away a decapitated Starship.

Alex looked up to see at least fifteen or so advancing. “Dammit,” she cursed. A hand on her shoulder had her jumping, and she looked up to see Castiel standing there.

The second wave of Jefferson Starships crashed down upon them. Alex rushed forward, blade glinting in the streetlight as it twirled in her hands. One creature, then two, fell before hands secured themselves around her arms. Alex struggled, looking around in the melee to see Bobby overwhelmed. “Cas?” she called as her weapon was roughly torn away.

A grunt had her head swiveling to the left to see her angel held down by four other Starships. “Take them inside.” One growled, hands falling off of Alex. She felt the Starship holding her weapon shove her forward, and she had no choice but to do as he ordered. The three of them, guarded by four Starships, made their way across the street and into the diner.

Sam and Dean sat at the counter, talking with young, blonde woman who looked hauntingly familiar. At their entrance the Winchesters looked up, shocked, and Alex could see the shock and confusion in their eyes, followed by the overwhelming realization of their true situation. She cast a quick glance around; the diner was full of what could only be Starships.

“Well, so much for your plan B,” the woman said, and Alex immediately suspected her to be Eve. Her gaze focused on the angel beside her, a small smirk pulling at the corners of her lips as she approached . “And you, wondering why you’re so flaccid? I’m older than you, Castiel. I know what makes angels tick. Long as I’m around, consider yourself unplugged.” With that, she turned back to the Winchesters. “Work for me. It's a good deal. Bonus, I won’t kill your friends.”

Alex jumped as Castiel’s wings flared out in rage, pulling her own in close. “Cas,” she soothed. “It’s okay.”

Eve let out a barely audible chuckle, but didn’t spare them a glance.

“Alright, look,” Dean finally said. “The last few months we’ve been working for an evil dick. We’re not about to sign up for an evil bitch. We don’t work with demons. We don’t work with monsters. And if that means you got to kill us, then kill us!”

“Or,” Eve countered, “I turn you. And you do what I anyways.” She circled around to stand behind Dean, eyes never leaving the two brothers.

Dean remained firm. “Beat me with a wire hanger, the answer’s still no.”

Eve suddenly leaned forward, one hand pushing his head to the side to expose his neck. Starships suddenly lunged forward, restraining Sam, who struggled fruitlessly.

“Don’t test me,” Alex heard the Mother whisper in the Winchester’s ear, voice low and heavy with threat.

Dean didn’t even flinch. “Bite me,” he snapped.

Eve did just that. She leaned forward, sinking her teeth into Dean’s neck, who let out a cry of pain. Sam struggled even more. “No!”

“Dean!” From beside her, Castiel lunged forward, pulled backwards by two Starships. Alex struggled as well, but was held firm.

Suddenly Eve staggered backwards, coughing and spluttering in pain and surprise.

“Phoenix ash,” Dean growled triumphantly, turning around to face the Mother of All. One hand flew up to his bleeding neck as he continued. “One shell, one ounce of whiskey. Down the hatch. Little musty on the aftertaste. Call you later, Mom.”

Eve clutched at her chest as a white light shone through, illuminating her ribcage. Her form flickered and faded into a different woman as she began to choke. She coughed breathlessly as a black liquid bubbled up from her lungs, spilling out of her mouth and down her chin. She stood upright for several long seconds, black ooze seeping from her pores before she collapsed to the ground, convulsing once before stilling.

For a second nothing happened, and then the Starships sprang into life. One grabbed Alex and hauled her backwards, hand at her neck, trying to turn her. She flared her wings in outrage, struggling to get away. Suddenly she felt it.

“Shut your eyes!” Castiel commanded at the same time. Alex instinctively did so, and she immediately felt the room warm as Castiel’s grace pulsed through the diner. In that brief second, despite everything else, peace washed over her, and Alex felt herself relax. Then, just as quickly as it was there, it was gone, and Alex found herself opening her eyes once again.

The diner was filled with dead Starships. As Alex came back to reality, she could hear the sound of several car alarms from outside the diner.

Bobby was staring up at the angel. “We got to take you on more monster hunts,” he finally joked.

Castiel’s wing flicked in acknowledgment, the only sign that he had heard the hunter.

Sam waved the angel over. “Hey Cas, um, Dean’s bleeding pretty good.”

Castiel walked over to the two Winchesters, pulling his wings back in close as Dean nodded. “Yeah,” he agreed, “I think she turned me into a Jefferson Starship. Think you can clear that up to?”

Castiel didn’t respond, but brushed away the bloody rag Dean had been holding against his neck. He laid his hand against the hunter’s torn skin for a second before pulling away. Alex watched as Dean reached up to feel for the wound as Castiel turned back to look at her. “Are you okay?” he asked as she approached.

“Yeah. I’m fine.” Alex folded her wings forward in a gesture of reassurance. “Don’t worry.”

“Okay, we’re good.” Dean pulled himself to his feet and slung his duffle bag over his shoulder. “We got to go. Now.”

“Where?” Castiel tipped his head in confusion.

“The kid. The little kid. He’s one of them.”

Alex could see the disbelief and anger that flooded through her mate. “Unbelievable.”

“Yeah, I know, Cas. You told me, alright. Let’s just go.” Dean pushed his way past the two of them and out of the diner, followed by Sam and Bobby.

Alex started to follow, pausing only to kneel down beside a dead Starship. She pried open its fingers to reveal the handle of her blade. Searching the other Starship she found Castiel’s, and handed it to him. “Here.” She slid her own back up into her sleeve. “You might be needing this.” Before Castiel could respond she moved towards the door. “Come on. They might leave without us.”

 

 **F** ifteen minutes later Alex found herself following Sam and Dean into a darkened suburban house. The Winchester’s turned on their flashlights, moving off to the left into the living room. Alex’s grace felt it before her own eyes saw it. A older man lay on the floor, throat torn open. Alex guessed him to be the uncle Sam and Dean had taken the two boys to earlier that night.

“So we kill the wicked witch and she still wins.” The anger and disappointment was evident in Dean’s voice. “I mean, they could have turned half the town by now.” He saw Castiel opened his mouth and frowned. “Don’t say it,” he snapped.

A thud had Alex looking up in surprise, grace ready to defend herself. But all she saw was Bobby standing in front of an opened door. “Found them.”

The four of them walked over to him, pulling the door open even more so they could see. The two boys sat on the top stairs of the basement staircase, obviously dead.

“Well who ganked them?” Dean finally asked.

Sam knelt down, finger going out to brush through a small, almost undetectable line of yellow powder. He turned to look up at the rest of them. “Demons.”

“Demons?” Alex repeated. “That doesn’t make sense. What would demons want with them?”

Sam shrugged, standing back up. “So what do you think?” he asked his brother.

“I think demons don’t give a shit about monster tweens unless they’re told to,” Dean muttered darkly. He pushed his way past them and back into the living room.

“So you think she was telling the truth?” Sam persisted, following close behind.

“The truth about what?” Castiel queried, his own confusion etched across his face.

Dean turned to look up at the angel. “She says Crowley’s still kicking.”

Castiel’s wings flared out, but he quickly pulled them back in as they twitched slightly. “But I burned his bones.” He insisted, voice very much still confused. “How c —? Was she certain?”

“Sounded pretty sure,” Dean agreed. “According to her, Crowley’s still waterboarding her children, somewhere.”

The angel shook his head. “I don’t understand.”

“Well, he’s a crafty son of a bitch.”

“I’m an _angel_ ,” Castiel countered. “I’ll look into it immediately.” And with that, he flared his wings and was gone.

“Cas!” Dean yelled after him. “Let us know what you find out!”

Bobby and Sam looked at each other, mouths half open like there was something they wanted to say. Alex tipped head in confusion. “Something you two want to say?”

Both shook their heads. Dean stepped towards them, noticing their hesitancy. “What?” he persisted. “ _What?”_

“It’s just . . .” Bobby began, “how _did_ Crowley get away? I mean, it’s not like . . .” Bobby avoided Alex’s gaze as he continued. “It’s not like Cas makes mistakes like that. Unless —”

“Unless what?” Dean’s voice was flat.

“Unless he meant to.”

“Bobby, this is Cas we’re talking about.” Dean rolled his shoulders back in indignation, turning to his brother. “Do you believe this?” When Sam didn’t answer his voice grew sharp. “Sam?”

Sam let out a long sigh. “Look, it’s probably nothing, it’s just . . .” He trailed off before shaking his head again. “You know what? You’re right. It’s — it’s probably nothing.”

Bobby wasn’t giving up. “Alex? You got an opinion in all of this?”

Alex’s wings flared up in anger, but she forced them back down. Telling them that she knew of Castiel’s partnership would only make things worse between all of them. She could talk Castiel down. “All I know is that Cas will do anything to keep me safe,” she said instead. “I don’t know what that entails, but what I do know is that I haven’t had to worry about watching my back in a long time.”

Her answer seem to satisfy both Winchesters, but not the old hunter. “Got any memories about him? About how this whole thing goes down?”

Alex shook her head, lying through her teeth. “Nothing. If — if I do, I’ll tell you.”

She held Bobby’s gaze for several more long seconds before he nodded. “Okay. Fine. I trust you. I can still trust you, right?”

Alex blinked slowly before nodding firmly. “Or course. You can always trust me.”


	18. The Man Who Would Be King

**January 23rd, 2012**

**Sioux Falls, South Dakota**

**A** lex was stretched across the couch, watching Sam pace back and forth in the study. The room was dark, and Alex felt sleep pull on her wings. “Sam,” she whined, holding her hands straight up. “Come here.”

She heard the hunter snort in amusement, but footsteps stopped beside her. “Now what?” Large palms rested against hers, and Alex closed her fingers around his wrists.

“You should bring me some coffee,” she said childishly. “I’m tired.”

“The kitchen’s ten feet away.”

Alex felt Sam grab her own wrists, and suddenly she was in the air. She bit back a small hiss at the awkward angle, but soon found herself standing on the ground. “You’re stupid,” she teased, dropping the hunter’s hands and making her way towards the coffee pot. She heard a grunt of amusement in response.

Headlights flashed through the window, and Alex pulsed her grace out to feel Bobby Singer and something else. Demon. “Bobby’s back,” she called to the Winchester. “He’s got the demon alright.”

“Good.”

The four of them had been tracking down Crowley for the past week or so, and Alex had been strictly forbidden to even talk to Castiel, which was why she was here now with the Winchester staring over her shoulder. She dug through the cupboard for a dirty mug before pouring herself a cup of coffee, muttering under her breath.

“Whatcha saying?”

“I’m not talking to Cas.” Alex turned around, a bad mood settling over her, all humor lost. “Come on, Sammy. All . . . _this_ really isn’t necessary.” She gestured vaguely to her surroundings for emphasis. “I won’t tell Cas anything.”

“Yeah, well, you won’t tell us anything either. That’s why you’re here.” Sam turned away from her when the back door opened, and a few seconds later Bobby entered, leading a stoic demon behind him. Black eyes flashed when they locked with Alex, and she raised her wings threateningly, lips pulled back in a small snarl. Bobby used that brief moment of distraction to shove the demon into the room.

Alex’s eyes drifted up towards the ceiling where a ornate devil’s trap was delicately painted, effectively locking the demon within its bounds. She took a sip of her coffee, wings falling back to a neutral position.

“This the guy?” Sam joined Bobby in the circle, where together they manhandled the demon into a chair where he was bound.

“Yeah, that’s him,” Bobby finally said, stepping back. He wiped away the perspiration from his forehead. “Wasn’t easy.”

The demon just leered, and Sam turned away. “He got a name?”

“Yeah. Red.”

Alex tipped her head, studying the demon. The name certainly seemed to fit, seeing that the demon’s meatsuit was a ginger. Sweat soaked through his thin white tank top, but his eyes remained cold. “Am I going to be needed here?” she finally asked. “Or can I go get us some dinner?” She saw the way the two hunters exchanged glances and frowned, sticking her bottom lip out slightly and tilting her eyebrows up. “Bobby.”

“Take Sam with you.”    
“Bobby!” Alex stepped forward, wings raising up in annoyance. “I won’t talk to Cas. Hell, I swear he only comes if I’m dying, which I’m not. Sam . . . Sam’s needed here.”

Bobby hesitated, but he finally nodded. “Okay. Fine. Go.”

Alex rolled her eyes, but walked over to the back door, grabbing her coat on the way. Her wings twitched uncomfortably as she did one last search of the house and yard; Red was the only demon around.

 

 **A** lex pulled the Marquis back into the Singer Salvage Yard, parking beside the Impala outside the back door. She grabbed the fast food bags from the seat beside her and hurried towards the house, kicking the car door closed behind her. She used her shoulder to shove open the back door, wings unfolding at the feeling of a warm house. “Bobby?” she called, walking into the study. Red sat in the chair, still alive, but with the demon knife embedded in his thigh. Still, he managed to shoot her a dark glare as she passed.

“Look, Dean, he’s our friend too, okay?” Sam was saying. All three hunters were standing in the darkened kitchen, voices lowered. “And I would die for him. I would. But . . . Look. I’m praying we’re wrong here.”

“But if we ain’t . . .” Bobby added as Alex stopped by them, “if there’s a snowball’s of a snowball’s chance here . . .that means we’re dealing with a Superman who’s gone dark side. Which means we got to be cautious, we got to be smart, and maybe stock up on some Kryptonite.”

Alex rolled her eyes, circling around them to deposit the food onto the counter. Once again, they were talking about Cas. It seemed to be the only thing they talked about nowadays.

“This makes you Louis Lane,” Dean joked up at his brother, who just rolled his eyes in response.

“Look. One problem at a time here. We got to find Crowley now, before the damn fool cracks open Purgatory.” Bobby looked over at Alex.

She turned to see him staring at her. “What?” she snorted. “Oh, I’m sorry, was I suppose to have some sort of revelation while standing in line for burgers?” She snapped her fingers like an idea had just come to her. “You know, I thought heard someone say Gabriel was supposed to come down and hand me the answer on a silver scroll, although I guess he’s a little busy with being dead and all.”

Bobby obviously didn’t find her sarcastic humor amusing at the moment, and walked back into the study.

Alex leaned over to Sam. “He give Crowley up yet?” she asked

“Not yet.” Sam followed after the old hunter. “But he’s close.”

Bobby leaned over Red. “Where’s Crowley?” he demanded.

“Up yours,” Red growled. Bobby’s hand flew down to the knife, and the demon screamed as it was twisted.

“Where is Crowley?” Bobby repeated, pausing to let the demon answer.

“I don’t know where Crowley is!”

“Are you sure about that? Cause we can twist again all the way to next summer.” To demonstrate his point, Bobby gave the knife a sharp turn.

The demon cried out again, fingernails digging into the arms of the chair. “Oh, God!” he gasped. “I never even met him!” Bobby stopped, and the demon’s head fell forward, dragging in a deep breath. “I don’t deal with Crowley direct.”

“Well, who do you deal with?”

“The dispatcher.” Red raised his head, looking Bobby straight in the eyes. “A demon named Ellsworth.”

“Address?”

“Down in Utah. J-Just east of Randolph.”

“Randolph.” Bobby nodded. He yanked the knife out of Red’s thigh and plunged it into his heart. The demon died almost instantly.

Alex frowned as the old hunter returned to the kitchen. “We could have at least kept him alive until we’d checked out the lead.”

Bobby shrugged, reaching for his food. “He was getting on my nerves.” The hunter unwrapped out his burger then frowned. “I thought I said no tomatoes.”

“Oh. My bad.”

“You know I don’t like tomatoes.”

“Sorry.” Alex just rolled her eyes before trying to turn the conversation back to the more pressing matter. “So? Are we going to check this out ourselves?”

“We’ll do it tomorrow.” Bobby dropped his food on the table in disgust.

“Oh my God.” Alex stepped forward, reaching for the bag. “I’ll take the freaking tomatoes off, okay? How old are you again?”

“It’s fine.” Bobby knocked her hand away. “I can do it myself.”

Alex grumbled out an insult, moving past Sam and grabbing her own meal off of the counter. “Fine, fine. Whatever.”

“Yup.” Bobby walked back into the study, not even giving the dead corpse a second glance.

“Okay.” Alex handed out the other two beds and sat down at the kitchen table. “So . . . anything else happen while I was gone? Heard you guys talking about Cas. Again.”

“We’re worried about him,” Dean finally said, ignoring the look his brother shot him. “You know, about . . .”

“Him and Crowley,” Alex finished. “Yeah, I know. You still think they’re working together.”

“And you’ve been pretty quiet about the subject yourself,” Bobby countered. “Seeing that you’re the closest to him and all.”

Alex remained firm. “We don’t talk much,” she told them. “You know, because of the whole civil war in heaven.”

“We’re just saying we don’t know what Cas is up to for certain.” Sam covered, shooting Bobby a disapproving look.

Bobby turned around, grumbling under his breath, but Alex distinctly heard, “For all we know, she’s in on it too.”

Alex stood up sharply. “I’m gonna go eat in my room,” she muttered, grabbing her food and stalking up the stairs.

 

 **I** t was a few minutes later when there was a knock on the door. Dean stepped inside, carrying a can of Coke. “Thought you might be thirsty.” He joined her on the bed, holding out the can. “Don’t listen to Bobby,” he started. “You know him —”

“He has every right to be suspicious.” Alex cut him off. “I mean, seriously? Not only do I kinda know the futures, _and_ have a bit of a habit of not really telling you guys, but I’m also Cas’ mate. Hell, I’d suspect me too.”

“So you know what’s going to happen. With this whole civil war thing.”

“I’m going to talk to Cas,” Alex insisted. “I can . . .” She cut herself off, barely saving herself from telling Dean Castiel’s intent. “Once you guys give me the all clear, I’m going to talk to him.”

Dean studied her for several seconds before nodding. “Do what you can,” he finally said. “I . . . I don’t think Cas is working with Crowley.” Without another word, he got up and left.

Alex watched him go, a small sigh falling from her lips. “Then you’re the only one.”

 

 **T** he next morning found Alex crawling into the backseat of Bobby’s old pick-up truck. The sun was barely above the horizon, the pink sky barely above the tree line. To the west, it was still dark. “This is insane,” Alex insisted to the hunter who sat in front of her. “The sun’s not even up! I shouldn’t be awake, Bobby.”

“It’s a eight hour drive,” the hunter retorted. “You can sleep back there.” After a second he added, “It’s seven thirty in the morning.”

Alex made a string of sounds mimicking his words before crawling over the front seat in a tangle of wings and limbs. “If the sun’s not up, I’m not up,” she quipped back. “Besides, I’m awake now. I can’t fall back to sleep after I’m already up.”

“Then what are you complaining about?” The old truck lurched to life as Bobby started the engine, followed by the softer purr of the Impala behind them. Alex curled up as they drove away.

 

**Randolph, Utah**

**T** hey stopped three times on the long drive, and it was four in the afternoon by the time Bobby pulled the truck down a dusty old road. Alex sat up at the change, head tipping. “We there?”

“Just about.”

Alex stuck her head out the window to see the Impala close behind. She waved, and saw Sam give her a half-hearted wave back.

The truck stopped outside an old cabin and Alex jumped out, pulsing her grace forward to find the demons. The she stopped. “Bobby . . .”

“What?” Bobby pulled his shotgun out of the backseat before turning to glance at her. Seeing the way she was standing he paused. “What?”

“There’s . . . there’s suppose to be demons here, right?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t feel any.” Alex took off towards the cabin, ignoring the Winchester’s calls for her to come back. She threw open the door and slid to a stop. She heard Bobby follow behind, stopping just as suddenly.

The cabin was empty. Completely empty. Not a sign of a demon anywhere. “This is weird.” Alex crossed the room to stand in front of a table. She raised her head, sniffing. “Nothing. Not even any sulphur. Think Red was lying?”

Bobby snorted in amusement at her words. “Trust me. He wasn’t lying.”

The back door was flung open and the Winchesters burst through. “Clear from the back,” Sam told them, lowering his gun once he saw the cabin was empty.

Dean followed his lead, confusion in his eyes. “Demon’s get tipped and bug out?”

“Maybe they run from us now,” Sam hoped. “I mean, that would be a nice thought, right?”

“Yeah, if that’s what happened.” Bobby walked into the kitchen, and Sam moved off towards the left, leaving Alex and Dean standing in the middle.

“There’s nothing here,” she repeated, walking over to the couch. She sat down and dropped her angel blade onto the coffee table.

“Hey.” Sam reentered the main room, shotgun resting casually against his shoulder. “This place is clean.”

“Yeah, but it’s like . . . ‘Mr. Clean’ clean, you know?” Bobby added, joining the two Winchesters in the middle of the room. “Kinda OCD for your average demon.” When Alex grunted in agreement he looked over at her. “On your feet. We’re working.”

“There’s nothing here,” Alex muttered, but grabbed her angel blade and joined the group.

“Yeah,” Sam agreed. “So . . . now what?”

Dean didn’t even hesitate. “We call Cas.”

“What?”

“This is usually the point where we call Cas for help,” Dean repeated.

Bobby shook his head. “We talked about this.”

Alex grunted, flicking her grace out through the room one more time. Then she turned, moving towards the large oak desk against the far wall. She had felt something there, something very, very, faint, but all the while very familiar. She circled around to stand behind it, wings pulled in close, brow furrowed in confusion.

“ — is Cas, guys,” she vaguely heard Dean say, and she looked up. “I mean, when there was no one . . . and we were stuck — and I mean really stuck — he broke ranks. He has gone to the mat cut and bleeding for us so many freaking times.”

Alex pushed her grace out again, following the feeling. It was now located right behind Sam, and she paused, head tipped.

Sam grunted in agreement, and Alex looked up, not sure what had transpired while she had been distracted. She opened her mouth to ask what when Sam cleared his throat. “Castiel . . . this is really important, okay? Um . . . we really need to talk to you.”

“Castiel,” Dean added after a few seconds, “Come on in.”

Nothing. A hand on her shoulder had Alex jumping, and she looked up with wide eyes at Sam. “What?”

“What are you doing?” Bobby asked, face clearly not amused.

“I . . . sense something.” Alex stared at the air in front of her. Then it was gone, and she turned back to the hunters, confused. “I — do you want me to, uh, to call Cas?”

“He’s probably busy,” Dean insisted, but the female angel didn’t miss the doubt that sparked in the younger Winchester’s eyes.

However, he just shook his head. “That’s all right. We are too.” He moved past Bobby and Dean, heading for the front door. “Come on.”

“Back to square one,” Bobby muttered, following.

“More like square none,” Alex countered, just as frustrated at the lack of her mate’s appearance.

“Great.” Dean looked between the two other hunters. “So what do we do now?”

“Well, we caught one demon hunter before. We can do it again.”

Alex nodded, opening her mouth to agree, but something prickled against her grace. Instead of affirmation, a warning cry fell from her lips. “Dean!”

A dark shape barreled out of the hallway, tackling the hunter to the ground. Three other demons rushed into the room, and Alex hit the floor with a grunt. Glass shattered behind her, and Alex twisted to one side as a fist hit the ground where her face had been only moments before.

“Crowley says hi,” the demon hissed as she surged upwards, hands tangling in the demon’s shirt. His eyes went wide with surprise at her sudden aggressiveness for only a moment before he slammed her back into the ground, eyes flashing black.

Grace pulsed through the room, and a demon screamed. That brief second of distraction was all Alex needed, and she let her angel blade fall into her hand as she swung it upwards. The blade caught awkwardly in his side, and the demon fell backwards with a cry. Alex to scramble to her feet, head swinging wildly as she tried to locate what has killed the demon. There.

With a thrust of his wings Castiel appeared beside the demon advancing on Bobby. The demon turned, and he thrust a hand out, palm catching in the demon’s stomach. He used the momentum to pin the demon against the wall, other hand coming up to rest on his forehead in one quick, fluid motion. Light poured from the demon’s face. Castiel had moved on before the demon even hit the ground, and Alex’s head spun just in time to see him slam the third demon against the wall by the neck.

Hands wrapped around Alex’s neck, and she cried out at the sudden coldness. Castiel turned, blue eyes locking with hers, and then his wings propelled him forward. She felt him land behind them, and grace poured through the demon and into her. She felt it shake in agony as the angel flooded its vessel with grace, more than enough to kill five demons at once. Three, long seconds passed before Castiel pulled away, finally permitting it to die. The demon fell dead behind her, and Alex spun around. “I, I thought — I thought he was dead,” she stuttered out lamely.

Castiel, however, didn’t seem angry. He just nodded. “It’s okay.” His head swung over to Dean as the three hunters pulled themselves to their feet.

Alex stepped to the side, letting them into the conversation while silently berating herself for not having killed the demon herself. She had the opportunity to show Castiel she could take care of herself, but in the end he still had to fix her mistake.

“It’s good to see you, Cas.” Dean wiped his bloody lip off on the back of his hand.

The angel nodded curtly, studying the three. “You all right?” A large wing folded forward, insisting Alex come close, and she acquiesced, moving closer to her mate.

“Yeah,” Sam nodded. “Perfect timing, Cas.”

“I’m glad I found you. I come with news.”

“Yeah?” That seemed to perk Dean’s interest. “What?”

Alex felt the wing around her shoulder twitch slightly as the angel expounded, “I . . . _firmly_ believe Crowley is alive.”

Silence. Then Dean let out a huff of amusement, head dropping in disbelief. “Yeah, you think Kojak?” Before Castiel could answer he looked over at Bobby. “Well, Bobby, what do you think about Cas saving our asses . . . again?”

“I think we owe you an apology,” Bobby said, and as far as Alex could tell he genuinely meant it.

Castiel tipped his head in confusion. “Why?”

Sam answered for him. “We’ve . . . been hunting Crowley this whole time . . . and keeping it from you.”

“We thought . . . you were working for him,” Bobby finished.

“You thought what?” Castiel’s wings twitched again and Alex stepped away, scratching her neck where one of his feathers had just been resting.

“I know,” Dean agreed. “It’s crazy, right?”

“It’s just that you torched the wrong bones,” the older hunter explained. “It doesn’t matter. We — we were wrong.”

“You know . . .” Castiel said slowly, walking forward to stand by Alex, “you could have just asked me.”

“And we should have,” Dean wholeheartedly agreed. “We never should have doubted you. It’s . . . I hope you can forgive us.”

Castiel studied Dean for a second, some unknown thought passing through his mind before he nodded. “All is forgiven,” he promised.

“Thanks.”

“Yeah,” Sam echoed. “Thanks, Cas.”

“It is a little absurd though,” Castiel added.

Alex tipped her head, looking up at her mate. “What, you working with Crowley?”

“Yeah.” Castiel’s wings twitched again, primaries brushing against hers.

“I know, I know.” Bobby rolled his eyes.

“Superman going darkside,” Castiel added humorously, glancing over at Dean. “I’m still just Castiel.” He looked at the hunters, looking for some sort of response.

All three’s demeanors had changed, and Alex internally flinched at her mate’s words. They were almost word for word for what Bobby had said last night; that could only mean one thing.

“I guess we can put away our Kryptonite, right?” Dean finally got out, and Alex couldn’t miss the hurt that sat hidden beneath his voice.

Castiel, however, didn’t catch it in the slightest. “Exactly.” He looked around before nodding curtly. “I must go. There is something I still need to take care of.” Feathers dragged along Alex’s stomach before the angel was gone.

For several, long seconds no one spoke. Then, “Fuck.” Dean closed his eyes, the weight of the realization forcing him to take a step back. He looked over at his brother. “What . . . what should we do?”

“We need to talk to him. And it’s not going to be pretty.”

Suddenly Alex moved past Dean, going towards the door. A hand on her shoulder stopped her, and Alex looked up at Sam. “Let me go.”

“Where are you going?”

“I’m gonna talk Cas down!” Alex’s wings flared out, and she shrugged his hand off. “At the very least I can distract him until you can figure something out.”

“Let her go.” Bobby’s voice was quiet. Sam did as he said, and Alex reached for the door before Bobby spoke again. “Alex. Do what you can.”

The angel nodded, catching the keys that were tossed to her. She hurried out of the cabin and jumped into the front seat of the truck.

 

 **A** lex pulled the rusted old truck into the motel parking lot. Getting out, she made her way over to where her grace told her was an empty room. The door unlocked easily, and she slipped inside. “Cas?” She tossed her coat onto the bed, looking around. “This is important.”

Still there was nothing.

The young angel took a deep breath. “Cas. I _need_ you. Please.”

The flutter of wings and a pulse of grace announced her mate’s arrival. “What’s wrong?” he stepped forward, wings folded forward in concern. “Alex?”

“I know you’re working with Crowley.”

The angel stopped dead in his tracks. “What are you talking about?”

“You know full well what I’m talking about.” The female angel crossed her arms, eyes narrowed into chips of grey ice. “Listen, man. I was hoping that — you need to stop, alright? Purgatory is bad news. And really: _Crowley?”_

The older angel blinked. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he repeated, voice firm. Feathers ruffled as his wings moved nervously, and Alex threw up her hands.

“Stop lying to me!” she snapped. Castiel opened his mouth to protest, but she cut him off. “I know you’re lying. You have a fucking tell, Cas! Every single time you lie your damn wing twitches.”

The angel looked back at his own wings, and when he turned back around he looked throughly guilty. “I’m doing what I have to do,” he finally got out.

“Cas, _please_.” The angel’s wings folded forward in worry. “Listen to me. Looking for Purgatory can only end two ways: either you end up dead or worse.”

“There’s no other alternative,” Castiel insisted, regaining the composure he had momentarily lost. “This is the only way to beat Raphael. If he wins, he’ll take away our free will, not to mention —”

“ ‘Free will’?” Alex repeated. “Cas, I — I know you want the angels to have ‘free will.’ ” She added air quotes to emphasis her point. “I get it, but . . . it’s not going to work, man. Angels are about as hardwired to understand and implement autonomy about as — as much as a fish is hardwired to learn poetry. They were created to serve — to take orders. That’s our _job_ , Castiel. To listen and obey our Father. W-When has free will worked for any angel? Balthazar? _Lucifer?”_

Castiel’s eyes widened slightly in hurt. “Don’t compare me to Lucifer,” he growled, although his tone sounded closer to begging.

“I’m not.” Alex stepped forward, wings folding to rest against her mate’s shoulders. “You’re not Lucifer, Cas. And . . . and I can’t say this civil war is wrong. You’re a good angel, Castiel. But you’re different from the other angels. For some reason, our Father made you special.” She looked up to see emotions swimming in his blue eyes. “Please. Break the deal with Crowley. It’s not too late to find another way.”

Castiel was silent for several long seconds. “I’m sorry. It is.” His own, larger wings curled around her, brushing against her back. “I’m sorry. I’m doing this for them, and I’m doing this for you. _Le enay_ . . . If Raphael wins, I die and he takes you away. If I find Purgatory, I may die, but you will live. You’ll be free.” His wings curled in tighter, pulling her close, and his gaze dropped from her eyes. “Alex . . .”

Alex waited one moment, then two before a small, confused smile crossed her lips. “Cas?” As the silence dragged on she shifted uncomfortably. “What? Tell me.”

“We’re close to finding Purgatory. Very close.” Large hands enveloped hers, and the angel took a long breath, obviously very hesitant about continuing his thought, but the urgency and need in his voice kept him going. “Please. I wouldn’t ask this if this wasn't happening —”

“What is it?” Alex felt a knot in her stomach form at his words.

“It’s been over two years.” Suddenly Castiel’s grace rushed over her.“Alex. What’s wrong with me wanting to be with my mate? Even if only once.” His grace curled around hers, pushing needfully. The hands holding hers moved, gingerly resting on her waist. “If I die . . . this may be my only chance. I want to feel your grace with mine. I . . . I don’t want to die alone.”

Alex closed her eyes, feeling how the older angel waited with bated breath. “I’m sorry.”

“Alex.” Castiel tried to hold on but the young angel struggled away.

“I said I’m sorry,” she repeated, pulling free when the angel dropped his hands. “But I _can’t_ , Cas. Not . . .” She trailed off, not knowing what to say.

The angel’s wings drooped, feathers brushing against the ground. “There’s someone else.”

“No.”

He stood in silence for several long seconds, eyes closed. “If I am to die,” he finally said, “and if we are as close as Crowley says we are to finding Purgatory, this may be one of the last times I get to see you.”

Alex dared to look up only for a second, then immediately turned away, unable to stand the hurt in his eyes. She opened and closed her mouth, but words failed her.

Another long, silent pause. Then Castiel sighed. It was a long, quiet sigh full of pain. “I love you,” he murmured.

“I know.”

Castiel disappeared.

 

 **A** lex found herself back at the abandoned cabin in the woods ten minutes later. It was barely past six o’clock, but the cold, winter sun was already setting behind the trees. As she pushed open the heavy oak door she was immediately met with a bombardment of questions. “Did you talk to him?” “What did he say?”

Bobby’s voice rose above the rest. “What happened?”

Alex walked over to the couch and sat down, trying to shake the guilt that hung over her heart. “I, uh . . . he’s not giving it up,” she finally said. “I tried to talk him down, but he’s convinced this is the only way.” The young angel looked up at the oldest hunter, hurt in her eyes. “The worse part is he’s not wrong.” She looked between the two Winchesters. “Now what?”

“We’re going to talk with him ourselves.”

“Yeah, okay. Good luck with that.”

Dean stepped forward, eyes raised to the ceiling. “Castiel,” he began. “Uh . . . we need you for a little powwow down here, so come on down.”

Dark wings filled the far corner of the room as Castiel appeared, feet landing softly on the ground. “Hello,” he acknowledged, pulling his wings in tight. “You’re still here.”

“Yeah,” Sam agreed. “We had to bury the bodies.”

“And we found a little whiskey,” his brother added. “Thanks for coming.”

Castiel approached them, gaze dancing over the three hunters. “How can I help?”

“Look. We, um, we have a new plan.” Sam took a step closer to the angel, who stopped, eyes falling upon him. “We think we’ve finally figured out a way to track down Crowley.”

The seraph’s feathers ruffled out in confusion, but he remained stolid. “What is it?”

The striking of a match caught Alex’s attention, and she looked over to see Bobby throw one onto the ground. Immediately fire sprang up, encircling the angel. “It’s you.”

Alex jumped to her feet, taking several hurried steps before Castiel spun around, eyes flashing in worry. “Stay back,” he pleaded, a hand out to stop her. Alex stilled, knowing how dangerous holy fire was to angels. Satisfied that his mate was safe, Castiel turned back to Dean. “What are you doing?” His wings raised in a hint of a threat, navy feathers puffing out in anger.

“We gotta talk.”

“About what? Let me go!” The seraph’s glare slid between Dean and Sam, wings arching high above his head. Alex took a small step back, intimidated.

Dean, however, remained stoic. “About Superman. About Kryptonite.”

“How’d you know what I said?” Bobby snapped.

“How long have you been watching us?” Sam Winchester asked at the same time.

Before Castiel could respond to either, Dean added, “You know who spies on people, Cas? Spies.”

“Okay, just wait.” Castiel took a deep breath, eyes flickering over to Alex. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“What about this demon craphole?” Sam asked, leaning his shoulder against the wooden support column. “How is so, uh, ‘next to godliness’ clean in here, huh?”

“And how exactly did Crowley trick you with the wrong bones?” Bobby added.

Castiel faltered, and Alex stepped forward.

Immediately Castiel turned to face her. “Stay back,” he repeated.

Alex stopped moving, but her anger remained. She glared up at the three hunters, “Stop asking him all these damn questions,” she snapped. “Or at least give him time to actually answer!”

“It’s hard to understand,” Castiel insisted. “Hard to explain. Just let me go. Let me out and I can —”

Dean cut him off. “You got to look at me, man. You got to level with me and tell me what’s going on.” He took a step closer to Castiel. “Look me in the eye and tell me you’re not looking with Crowley.”

Castiel held the Winchester’s gaze for a second before he looked away, wings falling down in defeat.

“You son of a bitch.” Dean stepped away, voice cracking.

“Let me explain.”

“You’re in it with him?” Quiet anger replaced Dean’s shock and pain. “You and Crowley have been going after Purgatory together? You have, huh? This whole time.”

“I did it to protect you. I did it to protect _all_ of us.” Castiel’s voice grew sharp, fueled on by Dean.

“Protect us how?” Sam scoffed. “By opening a hole into Monsterland?”

“He’s right, Cas.” Bobby circled around to stand by Sam. “One drop got through, and it was Eve. And you want to break down the entire dam?”

“To get the _souls_. I can stop Raphael. Please, you have to trust me.”

“Trust you? How in the hell are we suppose to trust you now?”

Castiel’s gaze swung over to the younger Winchester. “I’m still me. I’m still your friend. Sam . . . I’m the one who raised you from Perdition.”

“What?” Sam straightened up, confusion flashing across his face. It was gone within a moment. “Well, no offense . . . but you did a pretty piss-poor job of it. Did you bring me back soulless . . on purpose?”

At _that_ , Castiel’s wings flared out in offense. “How could you think that?”

Sam didn’t respond, hardened gaze still scrutinizing the angel. “Well, I’m thinking a lot of things right now, Cas.”

“Listen.” Castiel turned back to Dean. “Raphael will kill us all. He’ll turn the world into a graveyard. I had no choice.”

“No, you had a choice. You just made the wrong one.”

“You don’t understand. It’s complicated.”

“No, actually, it’s not, and you know that. Why else would you keep this whole thing a secret, huh, unless you knew it was wrong? When crap like this comes around, we deal with it. Like we always have. What we don’t do is we don’t go out and make another deal with the devil!”

“It sounds so simple when you say it like that.” Castiel’s eyes dropped to the ground only momentarily before flickering back up to Dean’s. “Where were you when I needed to hear that?”

“I was there. Where were you?” Dean shook his head. “You should have come to us for help, Cas.”

“Maybe.” Suddenly Castiel looked up, and Alex felt his grace push against hers. The wind picked up, howling through the rafters, and Alex ran over to the window. “It’s too late now,” she heard Castiel say.

“Dean . . .” she warned. Black smoke billowed towards them, blocking out the moon. Demons; too many for her grace to count.

“I can’t turn back now,” the seraph insisted. “I can’t.”

“It’s not too late,” Dean snapped. “Dammit, Cas! We can fix this!”

“Dean! It’s not _broken_.” Castiel’s eyes flashed in anger. “Run. You have to run.” When no one moved his wings flared out. “Run!”

The three hunters hurried for the door, but Alex didn’t move. “Cas,” she pleaded.

Castiel’s gaze swung to hers, fire reflected in his dark eyes. “Alex. _Go_.”

Alex ran.

 

 **A** lex was curled up in the corner of her bed, staring out the window at the ground below. Snow covered the rusted cars, reflecting the soft moonlight. The young angel pulled her blankets tighter, trying to calm the turmoil bubbling inside of her chest.

Feathers rustled behind her, and the angel turned her head. “You shouldn’t be here,” she said quietly. “Dean won’t be happy.”

“I’ve already spoken to Dean.” Castiel stood at the far end of the room, wings pulled in tight.

“Oh.” Alex shifted slightly, the clenching in her chest loosening at the sound of his voice.

There was a few seconds’ pause before Castiel spoke again. “I just wanted to say that I understand.”

“Understand?” A small, hesitant smile formed on the girl’s lips. She looked the angel up and down, her smile falling away when she saw how the seraph’s wings were pulled in tight, fearful and nervous. “Understand what?” she repeated.

“Why you don’t want to be my mate.” Castiel’s gaze fell to the floor. “I’m not the angel you deserve. And I’m sorry. For all of this.”

“Cas . . .”

“I hope you find someone better, _iaida turs_. You deserve to be happy.”

“Cas—”

“I will always love you.” Then Castiel was gone.

“Castiel?” The pain and guilt was back, a crushing weight against her lungs. “Castiel!” The seraph didn’t return, and the young angel blinked back tears. “Please, Cas. Come back.”

He didn’t.


	19. Let it Bleed

**January 25th, 2012**

**Sioux Falls, South Dakota**

 

 **“S** he seem unnaturally quiet to you?”

Alex stayed where she was on the kitchen floor, half-heartedly tossing a tennis ball up and down in the air. The three hunters were in the study, and by the sound of it Bobby was getting worried. She heard the rustle of pages as Dean flipped a book shut, but neither Winchester immediately responded.

“Think it’s the sigils?” Dean finally asked, referring to the red angel-proofing sigils Bobby had put up last night that had, of course, not been truly effective as they were intended to be.

Alex imagined Bobby shaking his head. “Shouldn’t be it. She won’t be able to leave, but that’s about the extend of what they’ll do.”

Sam decided to speak up, lowering his voice. “She’s pretty upset about something. She only wears that shirt when she’s upset.”

At those words, Alex rolled over and walked into the living room. All three immediately fell silent; Dean looked back down at the journal he was reading, and Sam slumped on the couch, gaze dropping to his own book. Alex laid down next to Sam, head resting on his thigh as she closed her eyes. She shifted slightly, pulling the collar of Sam’s blue and black plaid shirt she was borrowing up around her nose. Her wings settled against the back of the couch as she heard Bobby leave the room.

After a few seconds Sam relaxed, his right arm coming back down to rest gently on her neck as he continued to read.

The armchair creaked as Dean got up, and heavy footfalls signaled his leave. Sam’s arm shifted, a large hand coming to rest on her blonde hair. “Are you okay?” he asked quietly.

Alex pushed up into his comforting touch. “I’m fine,” she promised, the first she had spoken all day. Sam moved to pull away, but she whined, settling back down when the hand returned.

Fingers toyed mindlessly with her hair as the Winchester continued to read, pausing after only half a minute. “Sorry if this is weird . . .”

Alex burrowed deeper into Sam. “Don’t stop,” she mumbled, wings folding around her. “It helps.” The hand returned as Dean walked back into the room and sat down.

 

 **F** ifteen minutes or so passed. Alex had drifted into headspace, vaguely conscious of what was happening around her, but unable — and unwilling — to comprehend anything beyond that. She lost herself in the sound of turning pages and Sam’s constant heartbeat.

It was Sam’s movement that pulled her out of it. “Well, at least you tried,” he was saying as he leaned forward slightly.

“Yeah, fat lot of good that did,” Dean replied quietly, and Alex shifted as she realized she had missed most of their conversation. She shifted again, more purposefully this time, and Sam returned his hand to her shoulder as Dean continued. “Why did he even come, right?”

Sam shrugged, turning back to his book. Alex watched through half-closed eyes as Dean snapped the journal shut and stood up. “Well, Samuel’s journals are pointless,” he huffed, intent on changing the conversation. “I mean, I’m sorry, but, uh, Jedediah Campbell has squat to tell me about how to stop Cas from cracking Purgatory.”

The stairs creaked, and Alex looked over to see Bobby returning from downstairs. His gaze flickered over Alex and Sam before speaking. “Actually, it’s not about the journals we have, it's about the one we don’t.”

“Meaning what?”

“Well, that’s the bad news. Our pal Cas didn’t stop in last night just to mend fences.” At those words, Alex rolled over, burying her face in Sam’s side. She heard the hunter grunt out something of an apology.

“What did he do?” she heard Dean ask.

“Stole something?”

“What?” Dean’s voice grew sharp.

“The journal of one Moishe Campbell.”

“Moishe?” Sam’s voice rumbled through his chest and into the angel’s ears.

“Of the New York Campbells,” Bobby agreed.

“Well, uh, we got to get it back, right?” Sam gently stood up, and Alex rolled back over to watch the three of them.

Bobby was holding out a manilla envelope, which Sam took in his hands. “Or just read a copy I already made,” he countered smugly. “Hi, glad to meet you. Bobby Singer, paranoid bastard.”

Alex let out a huff of laughter even as her eyes focused on Sam’s shoes. The Winchester sat down at Bobby’s desk, opening the envelope. “Okay,” he said. “Good.” He pulled out the large stack of papers before dividing it into three piles. He handed one to Bobby and one to Dean, keeping the last for himself.

“You not going to help?” Bobby looked down at Alex, who was still curled up on the couch. When she didn’t respond he frowned. “Get up. All hands on deck, princess.”

“Bobby.” Sam stopped him. “Let her be, okay?”

“Her sulking isn’t going to get us anywhere,” the hunter grumbled back.

“You can’t make her do anything,” the younger Winchester reminded. “We’ll be fine.”

 

 **“I** think I zeroed in on something.” Bobby’s voice had Alex looking up.

Dean walked back from the kitchen, carrying two dark mugs. “What do you got?” he asked. Bobby handed him a piece of paper and he took it, handing one of the mugs to his brother, who was still sitting at the large oak desk.

Sam accepted it with a small grunt of thanks as Dean began to read. “ ‘Went to talk to Howard Phillips about the events of March 10th.’ ”

“That’s March 10th, 1937,” Bobby clarified.

“Alright, so who’s this Phillips guy?” Dean sat down on the corner of the desk, taking a long sip from his mug while watching Bobby out of the corner of his eye.

“Phillips ain’t his last name. It’s Lovecraft.”

“H.P. Lovecraft.” Alex pulled herself into a sitting position. “Seriously?”

Bobby snorted. “Welcome back, Kotter. And yeah, that’s the guy.”

“Wait. Seriously?” Sam snatched the piece of paper out of Dean’s hand. “Let me see that.”

Dean looked between the three of them, unimpressed. “Am I suppose to know who that is?”

Bobby looked throughly confused at Dean’s confession. “Horror writer? _At the Mountains of Madness, The Call of Cthulhu?”_

Dean looked over at Sam, who stared back up at his brother, eyebrow cocked. “Yeah, it’s — no, I’m — I was way to busy having sex with woman,” he retorted. He took another sip of his coffee as Alex snorted in amusement.

Bobby just rolled his eyes. “Well, anyhow. There’s one notion that comes up over and over again in his stories. Namely opening doors to other dimensions and letting scary crap through.”

“You don’t say.”

“Wait, so you’re saying you think Lovecraft knew something about Purgatory?”

“All I know is Moishe paid him a visit.” Bobby flipped through a couple pages. “Maybe there’ll be something else.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Dean walked over to the couch, and Alex scooted to one side so the hunter could sit. He placed his mug on the end table, then fished his phone out of his pocket. He dropped it on the table as well before sitting down with his stack of papers. Alex watched as he scanned through only one page before his phone rang. Confused, the hunter answered it. “Ben?”

“There’s men in the house!” Ben Braeden’s frantic voice came through, and Alex immediately sat up. She leaned closer, feather ruffling anxiously.

“What?”

“They killed Matt. They got Mom.” Ben was breathing heavily, close to hyperventilating. “They’re coming. I can hear them.”

Dean leaned forward. “What are they?”

“I-I don’t know.”

“Did you see eyes?”

“No.”

“Teeth?”

“No.”

“This is important, Ben. I _need_ to know.”

“Smell anything?” Alex asked, leaning closer so Ben could hear. Fear tingled through her body, and her wings twitched nervously. “L-Like sulphur?”

“I don’t know!”

“Okay.” Dean closed his eyes, two fingers pinching the bridge of his nose, trying to stay calm. “Where are you now?”

“In my room.”

“Can you get to your mom’s closet? I left a shotgun in there.”

“No. D-Dean, what do I do?”

Dean took a deep breath. “Okay, Ben, listen to me. Go to your window and jump.”

“What?!”

“Any bones you break won’t compare to what they’re going to do to you, Ben. You’ve got to jump.”

The sound of things hitting the ground filled the other end of the line, and Alex looked up at Dean, eye wide. Dean pushed her away, but Alex could feel the tremble in his hand as he did so. “Okay.” Ben’s voice came back through. “I’m going in.”

“I’m coming right now,” Dean promised. “I’m coming to get you and your mom. I promise.” Dean waited for an answer, but there was nothing. “You with me, Ben? Ben?” Still nothing, and Dean leaned forward even more. “Ben!”

Ben didn’t answer. Dean pulled the phone away from his ear, looking down at the screen. That’s when a faint, quiet voice came through the other end. “Hello, Dean.” Dean immediately brought the phone back to his ear, and Alex heard the ever familiar voice. “Fancy a chat?”

Dean jumped to his feet, anger pushing through him, dislodging the angel against his shoulder. “Crowley, let them go _now_ or I swear —” He was cut off, but Alex was too far away to make out Crowley’s words. She did however, hear Dean’s words, loud and clear. “I’m going to kill you,” he promised. Another long pause, and Dean ran a hand down his face. “I’m telling you, one last chance to let them go easy.”

Alex got to her feet, getting close enough just in time to hear the demon say, “ — won’t hurt them. Provided you and Jolly Green stand down. Got it? Splendid. Kisses.” The line went dead as the demon hung up, and Dean lowered the phone from his ear, knuckles white.

Bobby looked up at Dean, eyebrows knitted in sympathy and confusion. “What’s the story?”

“He said Ben and Lisa keep breathing as long as we sit on our thumbs.”

Alex’s wings flared out, feathers knocking against the far wall. Sam’s next words didn’t help to calm her down. “You think Cas knows about this?” he asked with a sigh.

“We gotta assume he does,” Dean reluctantly agreed.

“No.” Alex stepped forward, rolling her shoulders back. “No way. There’s no way in _hell_ Cas would be okay with this! That — that’s not Cas. Not after all they’ve done for me and you.”

“ ‘That’s not Cas’?” Dean repeated. “This whole Purgatory this has been ‘not Cas’!” He turned back to Sam and Bobby. “I’ll tell you what we’re not gonna do: sit here. I’m going after them.”

“I’m coming with.”

“Me too,” Alex added, moving to stand next to Sam. “They were my family too.”

Dean nodded at Alex before looking at his brother. “Okay. But no, Sam. You and Bobby got to stay on this Lovecraft thing. Cas is already way ahead of us.”

“You’ve got be to nuts if you think I’m going to let the two of you take on Crowley alone,” Sam retorted. “Bobby can take care of the case.”

“No, guys.” Bobby stood up, ready to offer his own help.

Dean however, shook his head. “Bobby, this is a big ball, okay? We can’t drop it now.”

The older hunter saw the point in Dean’s words, acknowledging it with a huff. “Fine. But how are the two of you gonna find Ben and Lisa?”

Sam looked over at his brother, who had frowned. “I’ve got a good idea.” And with that, Dean walked away.

Alex watched him leave the house with a small frown. “Can we break the sigils?” she pleaded. “I want to go outside.” When Bobby and Sam exchanged looks she frowned. “You can’t keep me in here forever.”

“That wasn’t the intention,” Sam promised. He walked back over to the couch and sat down, patting the worn seat next to him. “Why don’t you and me keep looking for something on Lovecraft, huh?”

Alex grumbled, but followed him over. She tugged on the hem of the large button down she was wearing, fixing it as she curled back up in Sam’s side. “Yeah, you do that.”

 

 **S** he must have fallen asleep, because when she woke up it was dark. Sam was standing up, and she groaned, opening her eyes. “Come on.” Sam held out his hand. “Dean’s ready.”

Alex yawned, but accepted the gesture, letting Sam help her to her feet. “What exactly are we doing?” she asked, looking around. “I, uh, don’t think I was told.”

“We’re summoning Balthazar.” Sam made his way towards the backdoor. “Sigil’s broken, so you can come.”

Alex mumbled out a thanks before following the Winchester outside. They made their way among the cars to where Dean was. He was standing next to a broken down Ford Crown Victoria. As they drew nearer, she was able to make out the ever-familiar angel summoning sigil on the hood, a wooden bowl sitting in the center of the candles. Seeing that the other two where there, Dean lit a match and dropped it into the bowl.

Alex climbed onto the hood of a nearby car, watching as the lights above them sparked and died as grace pulsed through the air. Then wings came out of the sky, flaring out suddenly as Balthazar slowed, feet touching gracefully down on the roof of a car above them. “I’m sorry, boys, do I look like a man servant to you?” He looked down at the two hunters, displeasure evident on his face. “No? No? Then _quit_ ringing for me. Please.”

Dean wasn’t amused. “This is important, Balthazar.”

“I was drinking ’75 Dom out of a soprano’s navel when you called. _That_ was important.” Balthazar’s wings flicked in annoyance when Alex scoffed. “Fine. What is it?”

“Crowley’s alive,” the oldest Winchester stated bluntly. Sam nodded.

The angel didn’t seem the slightest impressed. “Well you’ve been scooped. Cas already told me.” He looked over at Alex, who was sitting on the hood beside Sam, wings pulled in tight. “And I’m assuming Little Miss Sunshine over there wasn’t in the dark either, seeing how close they are and all,” he added, casually making his way down the cars to stand in front of Dean.

Alex pulled her wings in tighter, shifting closer to Sam, and she felt Balthazar’s grace pulse curiously against hers; however, he didn’t verbally push her.

“Well, did Cas tell you he’s Crowley’s butt-buddy, you smug little dick?”

 _That_ caught the angel off guard. “Excuse me?”

“Handshake deal,” Sam explained. “Go halfsies on all the souls in Purgatory. He fill you in on that?”

“Well, yes, yes.” Balthazar shifted, wings pulled in close. It was obvious to Alex he was lying, but he kept going anyways. “Yes, of course he did. Yes,” he added one more time.

The Winchesters didn’t seem to buy into it either. “Oh, yes, of course,” Sam agreed scathingly. “I — we can read it all over your face.”

“Look,” Dean added, “Crowley and Cas took two people who are very important to me.”

“And I care about this because?”

“Because maybe there’s a shred of decency underneath this — this snarky crap,” Dean snapped. “They’re innocent people and I’m asking for your help.”

“Hmmm.” Balthazar took a long sip of his drink as he thought. “I see. Fair enough.” Amber wings flared outwards, and then he took off into the sky.

“Son of a bitch!”

“Look, Dean,” Sam tried to reason, “let’s just call Cas. Maybe he doesn't know anything about this.”

“We’re not calling Cas.”

“Yeah, but Dean —”

“We’re not calling Cas!”

Sam’s lips set into a tight frown, but he reluctantly gave in. “So what then?”

“Come on.” Dean stalked back towards the house, obviously and understandably quite tense. Sam followed, but hesitated when Alex didn’t move.

“I’ll be right in,” she promised, curling her wings in tighter around her as a cold gust of wind pushed through her feathers. Sam nodded and hurried after his brother.

 

_**T** he bedroom was dark. Alex was curled up in the far corner, a blanket cocooning her in comfort and warmth. One black wing was curled around her, the other pressed tightly against the back; it still wasn’t healed enough for her to move it quite yet. _

_The door opened, letting light fall through. Alex turned her head into her wing, ignoring the footsteps that approached. “Alex?” A shape knelt down beside her, and a gentle hand came to rest on her shoulder._

_“Leave me alone.” Alex shrugged off Balthazar’s hand, shifting away._

_The angel didn’t. He sat down on the ground, a large amber wing folding around her. “Why are you crying?”_

_“It’s none of your damn business.”_

_“My house, my business,” the angel quipped back. His hand moved, finger dancing through her feathers as his voice grew soft. “Alex. As much as you hate it, you're my charge, and you’re my responsibility. You’ve been in here for hours. Tell me what’s wrong.”_

_“I miss Cas.” Alex felt her muscles relax as he massaged the base of her wing. “It’s stupid, okay?”_

_“It’s not stupid,” he promised, and Alex cast a quick glance up at the angel. She had never seen him so . . . concerned for her. No sarcastic quips, no sexual commentary, nothing. Just genuine concern. “I’m not surprised. After all, you’re not suppose to be without a mate.”_

_“I thought that’s why you were here though. S-So I didn’t, you know . . .”_

_Balthazar shrugged. He shifted, reclining against the bed. “You love Castiel; you see him as your mate. Angel or not, you’re going to have some emotional attachment.” He tipped his head, voice taking on a lighter tone. “Now. What would make you feel better? Ice cream? I’ve heard humans rather like the stuff.”_

_Alex sniffled, a smile small smile breaking across her face. “I like ice cream,” she admitted._

_“Good.” The angel huffed as he stood, holding out his hand. “Maybe that’ll get you to stop crying for a while. It’s awkward when you cry,” he added, dry humor returning. Before she could respond he helped her to her feet, sauntering out of the room. “Meet me down in the kitchen.”_

_Alex watched him go, brushing away tears. “Thanks, B.”_

 

 **S** omething landed next to her, grace brushing against hers “Things not working out with Cassie?” a humorous voice asked. Alex lowered her wings — she knew Balthazar would going to come back, and she would rather just get the interrogation over with. However, she didn’t immediately respond, prompting the other angel to narrow his eyes. “ _Micaelaz?”_

“I’m fine, B.” However, Alex turned into the angel, wings folding forward like open arms, wanting his comfort.

Balthazar returned the gesture, wings folding down and around her. “What did he do?” She had been expecting teasing, but all he was showing was concern.

“ _He_ didn't do anything. Although,” she reluctantly added, “if he sees us together he might get the wrong idea.” Balthazar’s silence prompted her to continue. “He, uh, wanted to . . . uh, join graces before he find Purgatory.” Her gaze fell to her lap, and her voice shook. “He said he didn’t want to die feeling alone, b-but I couldn’t . . .”

To her surprise, Balthazar nodded. “I can see why he’d get all the wrong ideas about this right now,” he agreed. “So then are the two of you done?”

“I don’t know.” Alex shook her head, pulling her knees up to her body in an act of discomfort, but all the while finding it easy to open up to him. “I . . . part of me still wants him. I just don’t think I’m ready. I couldn’t give him what he wanted and now he’s gone. I, uh, sorry.” Alex ran a finger across her eye, wiping away the tears that were building up. “You probably don’t care.”

Balthazar didn’t respond, but he reached out, a hand coming to rest on her knee. “Is Castiel actually working with Crowley?"

“Yeah. He . . . he still wants to take the souls from Purgatory, a-and I mean, those things are nuclear, man. I don’t want him to die.”

The angel was silent for only a second before nodding. “Then I’ll do whatever I can to keep him alive. He’s my friend too, _Micaelaz_.”

“You really don’t have to do that, B.”

“Well, seeing as you’re the only angel left who seems to care for me, yes. I feel like it’s the least I could do.” Before Alex could object to that he added, “As much as I don’t care what that mate of yours thinks, perhaps I should go.” He stood up, reaching down to help the female angel to her feet as well. “If things don’t get better, I’m always an option.” He winked, flying away before Alex could begin to respond.

She rolled her eyes, not really in the mood for his humor, and walked back up to the back door, hands shoved deep inside her pockets. The door swung open, but an invisible wall stopped her from entering. Alex frowned, pushing harder, only to stumble backwards into the snow. The young angel pulled herself to her feet, wings shaking out to hide her humiliation. She walked up to the study and pounded on the window.

After a second Sam appeared. His face crinkled in confusion at the sight of her, and she pointed up at the banishing sigil on the window, a deep frown on her face. She watched as the hunter turned around, mouth moving. Then he disappeared.

He was at the backdoor within seconds. “Sorry,” he apologized, red lining his cheeks. “Dean didn’t realize you were still outside.”

Alex stomped over to the door and stepped inside, this time relieved to find that there was no wall blocking her from the warmth of the house. She tossed her coat over the staircase and walked into the study. “So?” she mumbled, leaning against the wall. “Now what?”

Dean didn't look up from where he was seated at the desk. “Demons,” was all he said.

“Hm.” Alex sighed, glancing towards the stairs. “I’m gonna go to bed.” She made her way up the worn wooden steps, pausing when she heard someone follow.

Sam stopped beside her, hazel eyes glittering with worry. “Hey. Are you okay? You seem pretty out of it today.”

Alex shrugged. “It’s nothing,” she lied. “I’ll take care of it, okay?”

“No, no, I get it, I just . . .” Sam hesitated. “When Balthazar unsunk the Titanic, I just know you got really quiet and clingy when something hurt you . . . badly.” Alex blushed and he added, “You’d do the same thing there; crawl into my lap and make me hold you.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s not bad,” Sam quickly backpedaled. “I’m just worried about you.”

Alex sat down on the step, and Sam did the same, staring up at her. Alex cast a quick glance into the study to see Dean still immersed in his work. “Me and Cas got in a . . . fight,” she finally said.

“About Purgatory?” When Alex didn’t immediately answer, Sam backed off. “You don’t have to tell.”

“It’s nothing you would understand. I just . . .” Alex pulled her wings in close. “I think he’s leaving me. Or something like that. I don’t know.”

“Why would he do that?”

“I don’t know!” Alex pushed her wings back in annoyance, feathers hitting the wall. “He thinks he’s going to die, but that . . . I don’t know why, okay?” Before Sam could respond she hurried upstairs.

 

 **T** he house was empty when Alex came down the next morning. She pulsed her grace out, glad and surprised to find that she could reach beyond the walls of the house. Sam was in the kitchen, and she peered in, curious as to what he was doing. “Hey.”

“Hey.” The youngest Winchester was sitting at the table, flipping through yet another of the Campbell’s journals.

“Where’s Dean?”

“Out back.” Sam’s face darkened. “In the garage.”

It wasn’t actually a garage, of course, but something more of a warehouse that Bobby had managed to construct on his property. ‘Garage,’ of course, was the best way any of them knew how to refer to it. So Alex just nodded. “Why?”

“He’s tracking down leads. He was up all night summoning a couple demons.” Sam stood up, motioning towards the door. “I took the sigils down. They weren’t much use anyways.”

“Thanks.”

Sam’s phone rang, and he dismissed himself, hurrying out the front door. After a second Alex followed, slipping around the house and making her way towards the garage. She felt demons in the shed, several still alive, and she hesitated, listening to the screams. It would take forever to find a demon that knew enough. And by that time, it could be too late.

The young angel took a step back, then two, then turned and ran back towards the house. There was one thing she could do.

 

 **A** lex pushed gravel back into the hole, wings twitching uncomfortably. She straightened up, looking down both roads before pulsing her grace out. Behind her. Alex turned, forcing herself to remain calm.

“What do you want?” A young woman stood there, eyes narrowed as she studied Alex. “If you’re looking for a deal, you’re out of luck.”

“I don’t have a soul,” Alex finished. “Yeah. I’ve heard the spiel.” Her angel blade slipped into her hand, and her wings flared out. “New proposition. Get Crowley.”

The woman’s eyes flashed red for only a brief second. “And why exactly would I do that?” she sneered, looking the angel up and down.

“We’re old buddies,” Alex retorted, the tip of her wings flicking in distaste. “Just tell him Alex wants to talk.” She added after a pause, “and if he asks why just tell him to get his bloody ass up here.”

The demon vanished, and Alex let her wings relax, weapon sliding back up into her sleeve. She looked down each road again, making sure they were still deserted. It wasn’t a common intersection — in fact, it was very much abandoned. However, she didn’t want to take any chances.

“Well if it isn’t the littlest angel.” Crowley appeared to her left, a drink in his hand. “I’ll admit, you were the last person I was expecting to visit.” Alex approached but he held up a hand. “Ah ah. One wrong move and they die.” To emphasis his point he brought his fingers together, ready to snap. When Alex stopped, forcing her wings down, the demon nodded. “That’s what I thought. Now. I thought our little deal was that they lived as long as you three left me alone.”

“That’s why I’m here.” Alex let her wings fall out and down in surrender, revealing the soft covert feathers. “Let them go. Take me instead.”

To her surprise, Crowley looked unimpressed. “And why exactly would I do that?” he scoffed.

Alex squinted in confusion. “For the same reasons you’ve been after me before.”

“I thought we both agreed that that wasn’t working out. Made a little pact, if I remember. You’d stop trying to kill me, I’d stop trying to catch you. And so on and so forth. And I am a man of my word.” Crowley took a sip of his drink before adding, “Not to mention that mate of yours has been nothing short of temperamental all day. So if you really want to help, I suggest you get him off my ass.”

“Get him off your own ass,” Alex snorted. “I thought you were ‘the bloody King of Hell.’ ”

Crowley remained unamused. “Trouble in paradise, then.” He meandered forward, and Alex pulled her wings in with a small growl. “Don’t bother. Now, as much as I would love having an angel in my custody, I can’t trust you or your mate.”

“Cas doesn’t need to know. I’ll go quietly. I _promise_. Just let Lisa and Ben go.”

The demon shook his head once again. “Sorry, kitten. As tempting as that is, it’s a matter of principal. I set them free, people start thinking I’m going soft around the edges.”

Alex’s wings arched upwards, frustration pushing at her grace. “And I’m sure they’d be just as elated to her how you turned down the opportunity of a lifetime for a few petty humans."

Crowley circled around her, and Alex stood still, gaze focused on the road ahead. “You seem pretty intent on this.”

“They're important to Dean. And to me."

“No, I don't think that's it." Crowley stopped in front of her once again, taking a sip. “This is something personal, isn't it?”

“Yeah. My pity and self-loathing is why I'm giving myself up to you,” the angel quipped back, sarcasm heavy on her voice.

To her surprise, the demon looked thoughtful. “Things not going well in the bedroom?"

"Shut up."

Crowley shook his head. “I’m not letting them free. I've told you what I want you to do. If you're still in this self-sacrificing mood _ex post facto_ , then we’ll have another chat.” The demon snapped his fingers, and then he was gone.

 

 **T** he sun was setting by the time Alex got back. She had spent an hour driving around the town, cooling down, and only when she had finally calmed down enough did she force herself to return. She stepped through the back door, grace pulsing out to feel the two Winchesters in the study. “Where were you?”

Alex barely gave Sam a second glance. “Out. I’m fine. Find anything out?”

Dean shook his head. “The demon’s didn’t know anything,” he growled, visibly tensing, and Alex tipped her head.

“Dean. What happened?”

“Castiel stopped by. He said he didn’t know about Lisa and Ben, but he gave me the same damn ransom note we got from Crowley.” His hand tightened around his beer bottle, knuckles turning white.

Alex opened her mouth to defend him, but closed it once again. “Oh,” she said instead. She flopped down on the couch, wings pulling in close. Dean didn’t seem to notice, but Sam shot her a sympathetic look which she ignored.

Sam got up and walked into the kitchen, and the angel sat up as he poured himself a drink. Wings flashed in the corner of her eye as Balthazar landed behind him. “Drinking your feelings, Sam?” he asked. “I thought that was your brother’s bag.”

“Stressful times.” To prove his point, Sam raised his glass to his lips.

“Well, we need to talk.” Balthazar’s grace pushed against Alex’s, and he turned, confusion flitting across his face. Sam’s, “Why?” had him turning back. Alex got up and joined them as the angel continued. “Because — I know I’m going to regret this — but I’m officially . . . on your team. You bastards.”

Dean sounded skeptical as he circled around to stand beside his brother. “And why should we believe you?”

“Would you believe I had a shred of decency?”

“No.”

“Oh. That hurts.” Balthazar looked halfway offended, but easily brushed it away. “Okay, you’re right. It’s survival. You see, I asked Cas some questions and I disliked his answers. He seems awfully determined for a man who wants to swallow a million nuclear reactors. I mean, these things can bet a bit Chernobyl, you know? So, voila. Consider me your double agent. Oh, and I took the liberty of searching for your friends. Uh, took me a while. Crowley’s a clever one.”

“You found them?”

“Well, the upside is yes, but the downside is no, I can’t get them for you.”

“Why not?”

“Because Crowley’s angel-proofed the whole bloody building. I guess he doesn’t trust Cas. Seems that whole marriage is going swimmingly.” He glanced down at Alex. “No offense.”

Dean ignored that last comment. “Get us as close as you can,” he demanded.

“Sure. But then you’re on your own.”

Dean nodded. “Okay. Let me grab my stuff.” He hurried out of the room, Sam close behind.

“I’m coming with,” Alex stated firmly.

The angel’s voice was dry. “I expected nothing less. If you really want to stand outside in the cold by yourself, I won’t be stopping you.”

Sam and Dean returned, and Balthazar held out a hand to Alex, who took it, threading her fingers through his. Then the ground shifted, and all four of them were standing outside. The air was warmer than before, telling her they were somewhat farther south than they had been only a second before. A large warehouse loomed in front of them, and Alex felt a large, sharp wall as she pushed out her grace. “Alright, boys, this is where I get off. God be with you and what have you.”

The two hunters nodded before walking off towards the warehouse. Alex crossed her arms, looking around. “Now what?”

“I talked with Castiel,” Balthazar began.

Discomfort prickled at her skin, but Alex forced her voice to be steady. “Yeah, so I gathered. How . . . how is he?”

“Well, he seems rather convinced he’s not going to make it through. On the other hand, he still seems rather intent on doing it anyways.”

“He was going to do it before we fought,” Alex snapped. “Hell, that’s the reason we were fighting in the first place.”

“The _whole_ reason?”

“Shut up.” The wind picked up and Alex shivered, pulling her wings in tight. Balthazar rested a wing across her shoulder, drawing her near. “He was pretty sure was doing to die. That’s why he came to me and asked to be my mate.”

“And you turned down a doomed man’s final wish.” The angel saw how the young female winced and cocked an eyebrow. “You know, the ‘mating’ part isn’t necessary. I’m sure the two of you could find some middle ground.”

Alex shook her head. “No. No way.”

“Okay, so either you really don’t like sex or you really don’t like Cas.” Before Alex could protest he continued with a lighthearted, “So, if you had to have sex with Cas, would you mate him or no?”

“What is this? Twenty questions? And I’m not answering that.” Another gust of wind followed her words, and Alex ruffled her feathers, exaggerating a shudder into a fully body wiggle. She heard the angel chuckle, and she looked up at him, shifting even closer to draw his attention away from their conversation and onto her. “How do you fly?” she asked instead, tilting her eyebrows up to appear childish, knowing exactly how to change the topic. She flapped her wings for emphasis. “Do you just —”

Balthazar reached out before she thrust down hard with her wings. “I wouldn’t try that right now,” he suggested. “Who knows where’ll you end up.” Alex let out a smile and he added, “Maybe after this Purgatory thing blows over, hm? Although I will admit I don’t like the idea of you being able to go wherever you like.”

“Makes your job obsolete,” Alex half-teased. A scream had her looking up in concern, wings pulled back. “Think they’re okay?”

“Mon ange, I don’t anything could stop Dean right now. Now come on.” Balthazar raised his wings, poised to take off. “Let’s get out of the cold, hmm?”

Alex shook her head, stepping away. “What about the Winchesters?”

“What about you, me, a couple drinks?” Balthazar shot her a suggestive wink. “Those Winchester can take care of themselves. They’re big boys.”

Alex rolled her eyes, not taking his flirting seriously. “Let’s find a getaway car,” she decided instead. “Unless you feel like carting five of us around at a time.”

“Easy,” the angel bragged; however, he looked around. “That big enough for you?” He flicked a wing towards a white SUV sitting on the curb.

“Perfect.” Alex hurried over to it, grace pushing out to unlock the door. She slid into the front seat, and something hit her in the face as Balthazar landed in the passenger seat beside her. She knocked his wings out of the way with a spluttered, “Watch it!”

Balthazar didn’t apologize.

Alex watched him for a few seconds, confused as to why he was still there. “So, you’re just gonna hang here then? You always seemed more of the fuck-and-dump type of guy.”

“There’s much you don’t know about me,” the angel quipped, bringing his feet up to rest on the dash. “Especially if you think I’m about to leave you next to a demon-infested building. Traitor or not, Castiel would have my head for that one.”

“I thought you didn’t care what Castiel thought,” Alex teased back, tipping her head to smile over at her friend.

“Well, I don’t, but I do care about my life.” For some reason that caused the angel to fall silent, head turning to look out the window.

Not sure about the sudden change in mood, Alex opened her mouth to ask, but after a second decided against it. She let the conversation fall into silence.

 

 **S** houts. Alex looked up at the noise, distinctly recognizing Sam’s voice. “B.” She looked over to see that Balthazar was gone, and she threw open the car door. “Sam!”

“Alex!” Sam came tearing around the alley, sliding to a stop when he saw her. “We need a car.”

Alex wordlessly pointed to the white SUV, and Sam ran past her, diving into the driver’s seat. Alex followed, getting in as well. “Sam? Sam!” When the hunter didn’t answer she flared her wings out in worry. “Sam. Where’s Dean? Did you find Ben and Lisa?”

“Lisa’s been stabbed.”

Sam reached under the car to hotwire it, but Alex poked him in the arm with the key. “Sun visor,” she explained. “Classic.” She stuck the key in the ignition, and Sam took over. The engine purred to life and Sam threw the car into gear, tearing back down the alley.

Three shapes came into view hurrying down the stairs, and suddenly Alex was knocked backwards and out of the car, thrown onto the wet street. She gasped as her body connected with the pavement. “Dean!” she struggled to her feet, not risking taking a step closer in fear of the angel-proofing hurting her again.

If Dean heard her, he showed no signs. He laid Lisa in the backseat before climbing in after her as Ben got into the passenger side. Alex waved her arms, not wanting to be left behind. “Sam!”

The white SUV drove away, and Alex ran back down the alley, looking down the street. “Dammit!” she yelled just as the car rounded the corner. Sam slammed on the breaks, and Alex got into the backseat. “Thought you were going to leave me,” she hissed at the younger Winchester.

Sam opened his mouth to respond, but a “Drive!” from Dean had him shutting up.

“What happened?” Alex looked down at Lisa Braeden who was lying with her head in Dean’s lap, a hand covering Dean’s. In turn his was pressed tightly against her abdomen, blood drying on his fingers.

“Demons,” the hunter snapped. “She was possessed. The demon stabbed her so I wouldn’t exorcise her. Now help me out, would you?”

Alex reached out, sliding a hand under Dean’s. Lisa hissed in pain, and Alex whispered out a soothing apology as she covered the wound. She focused on her grace, letting it flow into the woman. She felt the torn skin, and further down internal organs. “She’s bleeding on the inside.”

“Yeah, thanks for that Dr. House,” Dean growled. “Well? Can you fix it?”

Alex pushed more grace inside, focusing on letting it heal whatever it touched. “Some of it,” she finally said. “I — it’s her liver. She’s bleeding a lot. She’ll go into shock if we don’t get her help.” With her other hand she felt Lisa’s neck. “She’s cold and pale. I’d give her another ten minutes.”

“Can you fix her?” Dean repeated.

“Not all of her!” Alex finally snapped. “I-I mean, I can try, but if I do something wrong, I could kill her. Hell, I put too much of my grace in her, her liver could _explode_. I’m not risking that, Dean.”

Ben turned around, eyes wide in shock, and Dean looked up. “She’s fine, Ben,” he promised breathlessly. “She’s fine. She’s gonna be fine. Almost there.” He looked back down at Lisa, taking her hand. “Hey hey hey. Stay with me. Sam! You gotta go faster, man!” The car accelerated and Dean ran a hand through Lisa’s hair, leaving Alex to hold in the wound. “You’re gonna be fine,” he promised, voice breaking. “You’re gonna be just fine.”

The car screeched around a corner, and Lisa let out a faint groan as she was jostled. “Dean. I — I can call Ca- _Balthazar_ ,” Alex suggested desperately. “He can fix her. He knows more than me.”

“We’re almost there,” Sam promised. “Only two more blocks.”

Alex pushed her grace back in. She was bleeding a lot, but it was beginning to clot around the edges. “She can make it,” the young angel promised. She looked up into Ben’s wide eyes. “She’s going to be fine.”

Sam turned the car into the hospital, slamming to a stop and throwing the car into park. Dean gathered Lisa up in his arms, and Alex watched as the four of them hurried into the hospital. She hesitated only a moment before following.

 

 **Al** ex was sitting in one the hospital’s many lobbies beside Sam. The hunter was on his phone, and Alex turned in her chair, feet over one arm of the seat, and her shoulders over the other, head resting against his arm. It was the next morning, and Lisa was stable and out of ICU, with both Ben and Dean were in there with her. Footsteps approached, and Ben stomped out of the room. “Ben.” Alex jumped to her feet and hurried after the boy. “Ben. Wait up.”

“Leave me alone.”

“Hey.” Alex’s voice grew sharp, wings flaring out in annoyance. “Watch your tone.”

“You’re not my mom!” Ben spun around, anger flashing in his eyes. “Just leave me alone! You’re not my family, okay?”

Alex’s wings fell down. “Ben. She’s going to be okay. I promise.”

“Promise? Like how Dean promised he’d be there for us? Like that? You walk into our life and then you just leave without even saying goodbye! You promised we’d be safe and now —” Ben cut himself off angrily.

Alex held his gaze for a moment before letting her drop to the ground. “I didn’t leave you, Ben,” she said quietly. “What happened to your mom . . . it happened to me. Crowley was after me as well. I wanted to say goodbye . . . I’m sorry.”

“Save it.” Ben stalked away, leaving the young angel alone.

She pushed out her grace, searching the floor for any demons that may be returning to finish the job, and paused. Her grace brushed against something warm, something that immediately calmed her frayed nerves. A momentary sense of peace washed over her before it pulled away, leaving Alex confused. She walked back over to Sam and sat down, watching the door to Lisa’s room. “Cas is here,” she murmured, folding her wings in tight.

“What?”

“In that room.” Alex gestured to the hospital room. “I felt him.”

“Huh.” Sam followed her gaze. “I didn't think he’d actually show up. Not now, of all places.” He looked down at the young angel. “Are you going to talk to him?”

Alex shook her head. “No. I don’t . . . I mean, I want to, but . . . I don't know. He didn't feel like he wanted to see me.” Sam looked like he was about to object, so she added, “If he wants to talk to me, he’ll come out and talk to me. He makes the first move, not me.”

Sam shook his head. “I don’t think that’s the best way to do anything,” he finally said. “I mean, I — I don’t know much about Cas, not anymore, but I don’t think you ignoring him is going to make him talk to you any faster.” He ended with a shrug. “I don’t know. You know him better, after all.”

Dean walked out of the room, and Alex stood up. “Dean?” The young angel tipped her head. “What’s wrong? Is Lis okay?”

“She’s fine. Come on.” Dean dug around in his pocket as he continued to move, leaving the two of them no choice but to follow.

“We’re leaving?” Sam sounded just as confused as Alex felt. “What about Lisa and Ben?”

Dean’s voice was harsh. “Cas took care of them. They . . . I did what was best. They won’t remember me anymore. Either of us.” He stopped beside the hospital door. “Meet me by the car. I forgot something.” The Winchester walked away, giving neither a chance to respond.

With a shrug, Sam pushed his way out of the hospital, and Alex followed. “Did . . . did he just say he wiped their memories?” The angel stopped beside the white SUV as Sam unlocked the door.

Sam was stopped from responding by Dean, who crossed the parking lot in five long strides. “Well?” Sam asked him.

“Well nothing.” Dean slid into the driver seat, slamming the door behind him.

Sam cleared his throat and got in as well, and Alex did the same thing, shifting uncomfortably on the strange seat as the Winchester sighed. “Dean, you know, you’ve pulled some shady crap before, but this . . .” He shook his head in disbelief. “This has got to be the worst. Whitewashing their memories? Take it from somebody who knows —”

“If you ever mention Lisa and Ben to me again, I will break your nose.”

“Dean.”

Dean looked over at his brother, eyes watering. “I’m not kidding,” he warned, voice cracking. Seeing the look in his brother’s eyes, Sam nodded. Dean threw the car into gear, and they drove away.


	20. The Man Who Knew Too Much

**February 1st, 2012**

**Sioux Falls, South Dakota**

**“I** got a call from Dr. Visyak!” Bobby’s voice came up through the floor, and Alex looked up from where she was. Only seconds later footsteps echoed from the basement stairs, and then Bobby turned the corner into the study. He looked around, eyes coming to rest on Alex, who was sitting at the kitchen table, eating a sandwich. “Where’s Dean?” 

“Dunno.” Alex shrugged, bringing her food up to her mouth. “I know where Sam is, though.” 

“Yeah, thanks for that.” Bobby’s gaze flickered over to the Winchester, who was sitting across from her. “Any ideas?” 

Sam shook his head. “I think the Impala’s still here,” he offered. “I’d try the garage.” 

Bobby grunted and walked away. 

Alex watched him go in confusion. “What about that call?” she yelled after him as the hunter disappeared out of the door. She turned back to Sam, grey eyes squinting slightly as she studied him. It was almost a week since they had left Lisa and Ben in the hospital, and it was clear that Dean was only just starting to get over them. Alex had spent most of her time with Sam, as neither Balthazar nor Castiel had come back for her. 

“Did he say something about Dr. Visyak?” Sam’s voice pulled her out of her thoughts. 

Alex nodded. “Yeah. Dragon lady,” she concurred. Apparently, in Bobby’s quest for the truth about H.P. Lovecraft, he had discovered that one creature from Purgatory had escaped through during one of Lovecraft’s cultic meetings. It had been that creature that had killed all of the guests, and that creature was none other than Dr. Visyak, the very same woman who had given her and Dean the dragon sword.

“What do you think she wants with him?” 

“I dunno. Bobby warned her that Cas might be after her, since, you know, apparently she knows how to open Purgatory. Maybe she’s got something to tell us.”

As if on cue, the front door opened and Bobby hurried through, Dean Winchester close behind. “Come on.” Bobby gathered up his duffle bag, leaving all three to exchange glances. 

“Why?” Dean finally asked. 

“Eleanor called. She’s two hours out and needs to talk with us.” 

“About?” 

“Didn’t say. Said she’d tell us in person.” Bobby slung his bag over his shoulder, looking expectantly over at the angel and the Winchesters. “Well? Come on.” 

 

 **T** wo hours later Alex jumped out of the backseat of the Impala, slamming the door behind her. She felt Dean shoot her a look, but didn’t acknowledge it, instead turning her attention to the local landscape. “This is it?” 

Bobby got out of the other side of the Chevy, looking around as well. “That’s what she said. In the alley behind the pawn shop,” he finally said, leading the way. 

The four of them started towards the store, Bobby taking the lead and Alex the rear, leaving the to Winchesters on the flank. “Where is she?” Dean asked as they turned down the alleyway. 

Bobby shrugged, digging around in his pocket. “She said to meet here. I’ll try again.” He pulled out his phone and dialed a number, bringing the cell up to his ear. He let it fall again when a soft ringing came from around the corner. The hunters hurried forward, leaving Alex to catch up, rounding the corner in time to see Bobby stop in front of dumpster. “El?” He immediately knelt down, and Alex ran towards them, wings pulling back at the stench of blood. 

Dr. Eleanor Visyak was on the ground, leaning against a stack of wooden pallets. Her eyes flickered open when she saw Bobby Singer. “Hey,” she said, voice rough with pain. “I guess I could have used your help after all.”

Bobby gently cut her off, one hand going to rest on hers, the other coming up to support her head. “Just be still.”

“What happened?”

Visyak’s gaze slid up to Sam. “They took me. I got away.” She opened her white coat to reveal a large bloodstain. 

Alex immediately slipped past Sam, kneeling down on the other side of the woman. She reached out, fingers gently probing the cut. “Let me see,” she soothed as Dr. Visyak let out a pained noise. 

“Oh, Ellie.” Bobby’s voice was soft as he stared down at the blood, face blank with shock. “What I have they done to you?” 

The woman chuckled. “Everything. The demon I could have handled, but when the angel stepped in . . .” She sighed in defeat. “I told them everything, Bobby. They have enough to crack Purgatory wide open.” 

At those words, Alex’s wings flared out wide in anger. “Cas did this to you?” she growled, accidentally pushing too hard on the cut. She pulled back when the monster winced. “That son of a bitch —”

“Alex.” Bobby cut her off. “Ellie. Tell me. I need to know.” 

“T-They need virgin blood.” Eleanor flinched as Alex turned her attention back to the wound, letting her grace flow in. “That’s a milk-run for them. And they need the blood of a Purgatory native, and well, they got plenty of that now.” She weakly motioned down to her wound, and Alex pushed in more grace, trying to determine the extent of the damage. It was a lot. 

“Have they opened it yet?” Dean asked.

Dr. Visyak shook her head. “Tomorrow. The moon — an eclipse.” She looked up into Bobby’s eyes, face softening. “I’m sorry, Bobby.”

“No, it’s okay,” Bobby promised. “It’s okay.” Alex closed her eyes, doing her best to mend the torn flesh back together. 

“I’m sorry,” the woman was still mumbling, “really sorry . . .”

“Tell us where they are.” 

Before Bobby had even finished his sentence, Alex felt the change. The unique feel of monster faded into nothing, leaving only the cold touch of a corpse. The young angel pulled back. “It’s too late.” 

“El?” Bobby looked over at Alex, who shook her head. The hunter’s face fell, and he slowly reached over and closed the woman’s eyes. 

“I’m sorry this had to happen.” A new voice had Alex spinning around. Castiel stood behind the two Winchesters, gaze on Bobby’s dead friend. “Crowley got carried away.”

Bobby slowly got to his feet. “Yeah, I bet it was all Crowley, you son of a bitch!” He tried to lunge at the angel, but Sam and Dean held him back. Bobby stepped away, but still he glowered up at the angel. 

Alex circled around Sam to stand in front of Castiel. “You _killed_ her?” she asked, hurt and disbelief in her voice. “Cas.”

“I did what I had to.” Castiel turned to look at Alex, her own hurt reflected, but there for a different reason. “In my situation, you would have done the same.”

“You know what, I don’t think I would have.” Alex’s wings flared up.

Castiel immediately did the same, meeting her challenge. However, his voice remained chillingly calm. “She was a _monster_. She’s no different than the other things you kill.”

Alex dropped her wings, but she kept her head high in defiance. “She was our friend. You — Cas, if we didn’t know you, we’d be trying to kill you!”

“You don’t even see it, do you?” Dean’s anger took over. “How totally off the rails you are!” 

“Enough!” Castiel’s head swung over to Dean. “I don’t care what you think. I’ve tried to make you understand. You won’t listen. So let me make this simple. _Please_. Go home and let me stop Raphael. I won’t ask again.”

“Cas. Please!” Alex’s voice cracked, and she swallowed, getting it back under control. “Don’t do this. This is going to _kill_ you. If not the souls, the —”

“Alex. I don’t have a choice.” He turned back to the three hunters. “Well?” 

Dean answered for the three of them. “I think you know the answer,” he growled. 

Castiel’s wings fell, and he shook his head. “I wish it hadn’t come to this,” he murmured. “Well rest assured, when this is all over, I _will_ save Sam, but only if you stand down.” 

“Save Sam from what?” Even as Dean spoke Castiel thrust his wings down, and then he was gone. Alex pulsed out her grace, suddenly spinning around to see Castiel standing behind Sam Winchester. Sam, seeing Alex turn, did the same, leaving him face to face with the seraph. Castiel reached up, two fingers coming to rest on Sam’s temple, and Alex felt the air hum as grace collided with a human soul. Then Castiel was gone, and Sam was on the ground. 

“Sam!” Alex fell beside him, a hand going to his neck to check his pulse. “Sam!” She shook the hunter, trying to wake him up. 

Dean landed beside her, green eyes wide with fear. “Is he —”

“He’s alive. He’s breathing.” Alex pulled back Sam’s eyelid, peering inside. “Pupils aren’t responding.” She looked up at Dean, wings pinned tightly against her back. “I don’t know what he did.” 

“What you you mean you don’t know?”

“I — he didn’t just knock him out. He _did_ something to him. I . . .” The next thought had Alex shrinking back in fear. “What if Cas took down the wall?”

Dean’s face reflected hers, and for several long seconds he just stared. “Sam!” Dean’s attention snapped back to his brother, trying to shake the hunter back into consciousness. “Sam!” 

“Dean.” 

“Do something!” Dean reached out, one hand balling in her shirt. “Do what you did last time.”

“Last time?” they heard Bobby ask, but neither paid him any attention. 

“I didn’t do anything last time!” Alex snapped back. “I-I somehow got into his mind. I saw what he saw. That was it. I didn't touch anything, I swear!” 

“Dean.” Bobby laid a hand on the eldest Winchester’s shoulder. “Come on. Let’s get Sam back to the car.” He took the comatose hunter’s legs, and together he and Dean managed to get Sam off of the ground. Alex scrambled backwards, leading the way back down the alley to where the Impala was parked. Sam was laid in the backseat, and Alex slid in next to him, awkwardly lifting his head and shoulders so she could slid under them. Bobby and Dean got into the backseat, and the car hummed to life as the engine turned over. 

Alex ran a hand over Sam’s forehead, brushing hair out of his face. “Dean,” she reluctantly said. “I’m going to try something.” 

She expected Dean to snap, or rebuke, or say anything to the contrary, but to her surprise he nodded, glancing at her through the rearview mirror. “Do what you can.”

The young angel rested her hand on Sam’s forehead, eyes falling shut. She pushed her grace through the hunter’s skull and into his brain. As her grace and his soul collided, the grey matter gave way to a swirl of colors, filling her mind. Alex kept going, chasing after that spark of life. 

Then she was standing outside. Alex looked around, confused at the dark streets and warm air. “Sam?” She could feel that she was still inside the hunter’s head; the atmosphere around her had a feel that was distinctly and purely Sam. 

Sirens screamed in the distance, and Alex took off down the street. “Sam!” she yelled again, pulsing out her grace. She immediately pulled it back into her body. It wouldn’t be any use. Everything felt like Sam Winchester; the tree, the road, the sky. 

A dark shape slipped through the shadows, and the Alex perked up. The figure was tall, slightly unsteady on his feet, but he moved quietly down the alley. Alex followed, interested peaked. “Sam?” she called after him. 

The figure turned, fear flashing in its eyes, and in that brief moment Alex could tell who it was. Then it ran. “Sam!” Alex ran after it. “Please! Stop.”

“Who are you?” The figure spun around, cornered in the alley. Wild eyes flickered this way and that, plotting his escape. “Who are you?” he repeated. 

“Sam. It’s me.” Alex lowered her wings, showing she was no threat. 

The gesture was lost on the man, who took a step back. “Me?” he repeated. “Who’s me?” Fear flashed in his eyes one more time. “Who am I?” 

“Alex?” The ground shook as the voice rocked through the heavens like a clap of thunder, and then Alex was back in the Impala. Her grace pulled completely free of the Winchester and she looked up, blinking as she reorientated herself. Dean had an arm hanging over the backseat, twisting so he could look back at her. 

“W-What?” Alex shook of the dizziness, looking between Dean and Bobby. She opened her mouth to expand her point, but words failed her. “What?” she repeated lamely. 

“We’re here.” Dean threw open the driver’s side door and got out, circling around to where Alex was not. “Help me get him out,” he instructed, taking a hold of Sam’s legs. 

“It’s been two hours?” Alex looked out the window to see that they were in fact back at the Singer Salvage Yard. “H-How?”

“Dunno. You went into this — umph,” Dean cut off in a grunt as Sam’s dead weight increased, “— this trance thing,” he huffed out. Alex got out of the car as Bobby grabbed Sam’s legs, letting Dean dip below his brother’s stomach and roll him onto his back. He straightened up, completely supporting his brother’s weight, leaving his voice strained with the effort. “We couldn’t get you out of it.” 

He and Bobby carried Sam into the house, Alex hurrying quickly behind. “The wall’s gone,” she finally said. “It’s totally destroyed. Last time I was in his mind I felt it; it was just cracked, b-but now . . .”

“We’re going to fix this,” Dean swore. Slowly but surely he made his way into the basement where he laid Sam on the cot in the panic room. Then he turned to Alex, who was making her way towards the panic room door. “Tell me what you saw,” he demanded. 

“N-Not much.” Alex pulled her wings in tight at the hunter’s rage. “Uh, I was outside. On the edge of a park or something. There, uh, there were sirens. I found Sam. I think.” Her eyebrows furrowed as she continued. “He was scared and running. He didn’t know who I was. I don’t even think he knew who he was.”

Alex started to cross the threshold, but Bobby held out a hand. “You might want to stay outside for this,” he suggested, holding up a piece of white chalk. 

“You’re putting up more sigils?” Alex watched as the hunter started on the far wall. 

“Yeah. Figured out where I went wrong, too. Should work this time.” Bobby knocked a table out of the way to make room, and Alex leaned against the door frame, watching Sam through worried eyes.

 

 **A** lex sat on the basement steps, staring blankly at the cement block walls. It was the next day, and there was still no improvement with Sam. She could hear Dean pacing in the panic room — now fully angel-proof — and Sam’s slow, soft breathing. The stairs creaked behind her as Bobby came down from the upstairs, passing her without a second’s glance. “Anything?” she heard him ask as he drew nearer to the Winchesters. 

“I can’t just sit here, Bobby. I’ve got to help him.”

“Dean.”

“You, know, dreamscape his noggin. Something!” The footsteps stopped momentarily as Dean paused.

“You know what Cas did.” Bobby’s voice was quiet. “And you heard what Alex said. The dam inside your brother’s noggin is gone, and all hell’s spilling loose. We don’t know what’s going on inside.”

“I don’t care. We have got to do something!” 

“And we will, but right now we have sixteen hours until the pop Purgatory. I’m one man down. I can’t afford to be down two.”

“Yeah, and how’s that going, huh? We’ve got no line on Crowley. We’ve got no line on Cas. Balthazar’s MIA. Alex has been fucking useless —”

“Dean.”

“I mean, all we’ve got in Sam, going through whatever the hell this is!” Dean finished, resuming his frantic pacing. 

Alex shook her head at his words. Bobby had started to respond, but she wasn’t listening. Alex ran up the stairs and out of the house. 

 

 **“B** althazar?” The young angel climbed up on top of a stack of cars, looking around. “B? Come here, man. Please.”

“You know, this really isn’t a good time —”

“Where’s Cas?” Alex rounded on the angel, wings flaring up. 

Balthazar looked her up and down, not visibly intimidated by her threat, but obviously interested in her reaction. “Excuse me?” 

“Castiel. Where is he?” Alex jumped a stack of cars to land in front of him, staring up into his vessel’s blue eyes. “I need to know. They’re going to crack Purg—”

“Sorry, sweetheart, but I don’t know. Nor do I care.” The angel raised his amber wings, signaling his leave. 

Alex’s voice stopped him. “Wait.” When he did so, she dropped her wings. “You said you were on our side.”

“Oh, I was. Until I realized what I stupid idea it was to risk my neck for those marmosets.” A push of his wings had Balthazar touching down on the ground below, leaving Alex to clamber after him. “And as much as I can’t stand the thought of that mate of yours inhaling all of those souls, I also can’t stand the thought of losing my life to prevent the inevitable. You understand, right?”

“No, I don’t.” Alex jumped off of he last hood, boots hitting the frozen ground with a thud. “I don’t want him to die, B. Please. Just . . . just tell me where he is. Then you can run. Or stay. I don’t care. It’s your choice.”

“Mm. Then I choose life. I’m sorry, _Michalez_ —” 

“ _Please_. One last thing for me. Then your debt to me is cleared.”

“My debt?” the angel repeated, an eyebrow raised. “And what debt is that, may I ask?” 

“The one from saving your life.” 

 

_**“J** ust stay here.” Balthazar held up a hand, stopping Alex from approaching. “I don’t think this concerns you.”_

_“Doesn’t concern me?” Alex pulled her wings in tight, frustrated. “There are angels downstairs that want to kill us, and you think this doesn’t concern me? I thought this place was suppose to be safe? I’ve been here for three whole weeks—”_

_“There probably just some of old Raphy’s men. I can take them.” An angel blade fell into Balthazar’s hands. “Just stay here.” With a gesture inside the room he added, “It’s your turn.” And with that, he closed the door._

_Alex wandered back over to the wooden table, kicking at one of the chairs in frustration. However, she held her tongue from any utterance, knowing anything could draw whatever was downstairs up. She stared down at the chessboard; with Balthazar having been distracted all afternoon, it had been a surprisingly easy game for her. She slid her queen to stand in front of the defenseless black king._

_A thud had her looking up, face scrunched in concern. Alex hurried over to the door, cracking it open ever so slightly. There was a groan of pain, and a very unfamiliar voice. She crept down the back flight of stairs and then down the hall, peering around the corner to look into the foyer. Light exploded before her eyes and she pulled away, blinking rapidly to clear her vision. A body hit the ground, followed seconds later by a clatter of a weapon on the cold tile._

_“Raphael’s been looking for you,” a voice growled, and the soft clack of shoes echoed throughout the house._

_“Yes, well, can’t say I’m —” Balthazar cut off with a grunt of pain. Alex peered around the corner in time to see a dark-winged seraph stop in front of Balthazar, who was doubled over._

  _“We know it was you who took the weapons.” The seraph stopped with his back to Alex and fisted his hand in the other angel’s short hair, forcing him to raise his head. Alex’s gaze slid down to the dead angel between them. “And you’re going to give them back.”_

_“I don’t have them.”_

_Like hell you don’t.”_

_Alex slipped around the corner, darting forward to wrap her hands around the sleek handle of the angel blade. It felt foreign in her grasp but she tightened her grip anyways, slinking forward, feet silent and breath held._

_The seraph shifted, and Balthazar raised his voice. “If you kill me, you’ll never find them,” he warned, wings flaring up._

_“Who said anything about killing you?” Something hot pushed against Alex, and suddenly the seraph spun around, eyes wide with confusion. Alex lunged forward, burying the weapon deep inside the angel’s chest. He flickered once, twice, and then crumpled to the ground, light burning out of his face._

_Balthazar stared up at her, mouth open in confusion. He immediately shut it when he saw the female angel. “What the —”_

_Alex dropped the angel blade, letting it clatter to the ground. She shrugged her shoulders, looking for something, anything to say. “Checkmate.”_

 

 **“L** ook what the cat dragged in.” Bobby’s voice had Alex looking up from where she was sitting beside the panic room door, a glass of scotch in one hand. The old hunter came into view, followed by a very familiar set of amber wings. 

Balthazar walked up to the panic room door, peering inside but unable to go any further. “Well, at least you mudfish finally got the angel-proofing right,” he muttered. He looked down at Alex, eyeing her drink. “Is hat for me?” Before Alex could respond his grace tugged at her glass, pulling it into his in a blink of the eye. He took a sip before gesturing towards Sam. “How’s Sleeping Beauty? Didn’t steal any kisses, I trust.” 

“What the hell took you so long?” The legs of the metal chair screeched against the concrete as Dean stood up. Balthazar walked back into the basement and Dean followed, head lowered and shoulders squared. 

Alex walked over to stand by Balthazar while Bobby sided with Dean, warily watching the angels. “Honestly?” Balthazar answered. “I was having second thoughts.”

“About?” 

“About whether to help you. I was thinking maybe . . . maybe I should rip out your sticky bits instead.” The angel took another sip of Alex’s drink, grunting in disapproval at the taste. “What year is this?” 

Dean ignored his question. “And what did you decide?”

“Well . . .” Balthazar reached into his jacket pocket and produced a small folded piece of paper. “Cas and Crowley are there. That’s where the show gets started.”

Dean unfolded the paper before showing it to Bobby, who nodded in approval. Satisfied, Dean turned his attention back to Balthazar. “Alright, well give us a minute to pack up then zap us there.”

“Oh, no no no no no.” The angel firmly shook his head. “No, I don’t think so.”

“Balthazar —”

“I’m betraying a friend here. A very powerful friend. We all are. And if you think I’m doing this for you, or for the world, then you’re mistaken. I’m repaying a debt for a friend, and I think I’ve stuck my neck far enough.” He nodded at the hunters before looking down at Alex. “Good luck. And next time you’re in need of a favor, call someone else.” Balthazar flew away, leaving Alex alone with the three men. 

Both hunters had completely different reactions. “Wait wait wait.” Dean stepped forward, shaking his head in confusion. “That guy was in _debt_ to you?” 

Bobby just stared at where Balthazar had one been. “That son of a bitch stole my glass.”

The young angel rolled her eyes. “I’ll buy you a new one.” Alex looked up at Dean, a faint blush spreading across her cheeks. “And it's nothing," she told him, gaze resting on his chest to avoid his eyes. “I saved his life a while back, so . . .”

"And you never thought of mentioning that?"

"Why would I mention it? What’s between me and Balthazar’s between me and Balthazar. I have my own life, Dean, and, unlike you and Sam, some parts of them aren’t your business.” She turned around and stalked over to the stairs, casting a quick glance behind her at the Winchester. “I’m going to go get packed. We’ll leave in five?” 

Dean nodded. “Yeah. In five.” 

 

**Bootbock, Kansas**

**T** he sky was a dark, midnight blue as Dean pulled the Impala onto a dark gravel road. Alex was curled up in the backseat, staring out the window. _B?_ she finally prayed. _You there? Come on, man. Tell me you’re okay._

_I’m fine. Balthazar’s soft voice echoed inside her head. I’m with Cas, but I don’t think he suspects me of anything._

_Just be careful. If anything happens, run._

_Mon ange, I might be a coward —_ Balthazar cut off, and Alex sat up, confused at his pause. 

When after several seconds he still didn’t continue the young angel leaned forward. “B?” she asked aloud, eliciting noises of confusion from the two hunters in front of her. _B?_ she repeated. _Dude. Seriously. Are you okay._

 _Michalez, I’m —_

Off in the distance light flashed, and grace pulsed through the air before flickering out. Alex leaned forward, eyes wide. “Balthazar?” she asked, voice catching in her throat. “B? Please!” 

“Alex?” Dean slowed the Impala, glancing back at the young angel.

Hearing no response, Alex threw open the Impala door, falling out of the moving car and hitting the gravel with a thud. “Balthazar?” She struggled to her feet and managed to run five paces before a weight hit her back. 

“Alex!” Dean’s voice rumbled in her ear. “Stay down!” 

“No!” Alex raised her wings, flapping them downwards in an attempt to break free. Dean held her down, and then there was a second pair of hands on her as well, keeping her down. “Balthazar!” 

Still there was no answer, and grief pushed down on her chest, forcing a sob up her throat. She had felt his grace pulse though her; it had been his. He was dead. 

“Alex!” Dean rolled her over, and a hand grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at him. “Hey! Look at me!” 

“He’s dead,” she whimpered, curling her wings around her. “C-Cas . . . Cas killed him.” 

Dean was less than sympathetic. “Pull it together. You want to get back at him, you have to _stay here._ If Cas finds out we’re here, there’s nothing we can do.”

Bobby handed a pair of binoculars to Dean. “Go see what you can see. I’ll stay here with her.” Dean grunted and crawled off of her, moving off towards the side of the road. 

Bobby helped her sit up, and Alex pulled her knees up to her chest, eyes unfocused. “He’s dead,” she repeated, tears stinging her eyes. 

“It’s not your fault.”

“It is my fault!” Alex buried her head in her knees, voice rising. “I made him betray Cas and give us the address. He wanted out of this. I-I . . . I didn’t let him.” A hand rested across her shoulders and Alex turned into the hunter, squeezing her eyes shut.

“Bobby.” Dean waved him over, and the hunter reluctantly left her, sneaking over to Dean. The hunter handed him the binoculars. “Take a look.” 

After a few seconds Bobby nodded. “I count a dozen mooks, maybe more.” 

“Demons?” 

“Angels.”

“Well, how the hell are we going to take out that many angels?” 

“We don’t. We ninja our way in.” Bobby glanced back at Alex, sinking into thought, but Dean firmly shook his head. 

“No.” He walked back over to Alex. “We’re not sending her in after Cas.”

“I never said we were.” Bobby joined them. “We’ll going in together.”

“Awesome. Yeah, till they hear your knee squeak.”

“Shut up.” 

“Oh what, now you got thick skin?”

“No. Shut up. Do you hear that?” All three fell silent, and Alex tipped her head, listening. The air rumbled, growing louder by the second, and the angel pulled herself to her feet, brushing away the tears. 

“What the hell is that?” 

Alex’s attention turned to the ground, watching the water in a puddle ripple away. “Dean.” She pointed at it, confusion taking fast hold. 

Dean’s face mimicked hers. “T-Rex maybe?” 

Thunder crashed above them, and Alex turned her gaze upwards towards the moon, then slowly reached out and tugged on Bobby’s sleeve. “Guys . . .” Dark smoke billowed over the trees, rushing towards them. The wind picked up, and Alex squinted against the biting air. 

“Holy mother of —”

“Get in the car!” Dean tore towards the Impala, yelling another, “Get in the car!” as Bobby and Alex followed close on his heels. Alex dove into the backseat, slamming the door closed as the black smoke hit the car. It rocked from side to side, and Alex leaned over the front seat, eyes wide. Suddenly the car was in the air, and Alex’s head collided with the ceiling. She cried out, something hard like bone smacking back into her nose. Her wings flared out in alarm, painfully hitting the sides of the car. 

Then just as soon as the smoke was there, it was gone, and Alex looked out the window to see the grass in the sky. She shook her head, sliding awkwardly to one side so she was laying on her side. “Dean . . .” she groaned, gingerly holding her nose. It was wet with blood, and most likely broken. “Dude, your skull is _hard_.” She pried open the door, slithering out on her belly and laying in the damp grass to catch his breath. “Fuck,” Alex finally breathed out. “That looks so much less painful in the movies.” Hearing no answer she lifted her head. “Dean? Bobby?” 

She pulled herself over to the car, manhandling open the driver’s side door to look in on the Winchester. “Dean?” She shook the hunter, trying to wake up. “Get up, man.” 

He didn’t move. 

“Okay, I’m sorry for this.” Alex pulsed her grace into his body, sharp and hot. Dean’s eyes snapped open, and Alex rested her head against the car’s metal frame. “Hey.”

Dean looked over at her before turning his head. Bobby was laying beside him, still unconscious. “Bobby?” Dean reached out to push on his shoulder. “Bobby? Get up.” 

Alex pulled herself to her feet and circled around to kneel beside Bobby. She pulsed her grace into his as well, shocking him back into consciousness. “Cas. Purgatory.” She stood up and stumbled towards the building without waiting for an answer. 

 

 **W** hatever angels Bobby had seen were gone. The two hunters caught up to her in front of the entrance, still a little unsteady on their feet. “Where’d they go?” Bobby grumbled darkly, pushing open the heavy metal door to reveal nothing but darkness. 

“Let’s find out.” Dean took the lead, Bobby close behind, Alex taking up the rear. Her angel blade slipped into her hand, and she pushed her quickly-tiring grace down the hall. But still there was nothing to be felt. 

 

 **B** obby pushed open a door, raising a finger to his lips. Alex immediately rolled her shoulders back and down, keeping her wings and grace in tight. Bobby stepped out, followed by Dean, and finally Alex. She peered past the Winchester to see the room. They were standing on a catwalk above a large, rounded room. The walls were a white brick, and blood hung thick in the air. A table, chair, a bloodstained apron — the young angel suppressed a shiver at the thought of what had happened in this room. Fluorescent lights hung above them, now dark, the only light coming from the moon in the windows high above. 

In the center of the room stood two figures. One was short and stout, the other tall and slim, one male, one female, both clad in black. Large, black wings were draped across the taller one’s back, feathers gleaming in the light. The shorter one was speaking, his thick accent ringing clear through the room, hands out held as he faced the far wall where a large sigil was drawn in blood. While the young angel had never seen it before, she could immediately tell that it was old, some sigils even resembling an obscure twist of Enochian. 

Dean raised his arm, and for the first time Alex noticed the angel blade there. She watched as he nodded at Bobby before he brought his wrist forward, sending the angel blade spinning through the air. 

It was stopped by the angel, hand going up to catch it without even turning his head. 

Crowley fell silent, turning to look up at the three of them. He looked calm, unamused even, as he raised a hand, flicking his wrist to the right. Bobby flew down the stairs, hitting the floor with a thud, and before Alex could react Dean was pulled over the catwalk, falling to the table below. It snapped under his weight, and the hunter hit the ground. 

A split second’s decision had Alex jumping after him, wings flaring out to slow her decent like she had seen Balthazar do a thousand times. She landed awkwardly but managed to stay on her feet long enough to see the demon raise an eyebrow. Then she was thrown backwards by a sudden, overwhelming rush of grace. “Gentlemen.” Crowley raised his voice, addressing the two hunters. “Be with you in a while.” He turned back to the wall, voice growing in strength. “ _Aperit fauces eius ad mundum nostrum, nunc, ianua magna aperta tandem!”_

 _Open your jaws to our world, now, the great door opened at last!_ The latin stopped as Crowley fell silent, waiting. 

Nothing happened. Crowley looked at Raphael and then back down at his book. “Mmm.” He finally said, staring at the wall. “Maybe I said it wrong.”

“You said it perfectly.” Feathers rustled as wings pulled in tight, and Alex felt the grace holding her pull away. She looked over at Castiel, eyes wide. The seraph placed a bloodstained jar on the table, head held high. “All you needed was this.”

In front of her Dean pulled himself to his feet, staring up at the angel, eye wide. Crowley, on the other hand, seemed less intimidated. He walked over to the wall, a finger dabbing at the drying blood. “I see.” He returned to stand by Raphael. “And we’ve been working with . . .” He stuck the finger in his mouth. “Dog’s blood. Naturally.”

Castiel’s head turned to look at Alex, an expression of what could only be smugness across his face. Alex held his gaze, lips set into a thin line. 

“Enough of these games, Castiel. Give us the blood.” Raphael’s wings rose, tips stretching towards the far walls. Thick black feathers ruffled in anger, but his face remained impassive.

“You —” Crowley pointed at the jar. “Game’s _over_. His jar’s empty. So, Castiel, how’d your ritual go? Better than ours, I’d bet.”

In response Castiel closed his eyes, and his grace hummed through the air as he let the power of the souls run through him, shaking the ground and filling the room with light. Dean and Bobby covered their eyes with their arms, and even Alex shied away as the pulse of his grace increased, filling her senses. Then it faded, and Alex saw the change. 

The angel’s wings had grown three sizes, and they glowed like a thousand suns. Alex stepped back, wings pulled tight in fear. Raphael’s wings faltered as well, no longer straight, but warily bent inwards. For several, long seconds the room was silent. And then Castiel spoke, voice almost thoughtful. “You can’t imagine what it’s like,” he told Raphael. “They’re all inside me. Millions upon millions of souls.”

“Sounds sexy,” the demon quipped. “Exit stage Crowley.” And then he fled, disappearing from sight. Raphael hesitated only a second before thrusting his large wings down. The air stirred with the movement, but Raphael remained stationary. He tried on more time before looking up at Castiel with fear. 

“Now what’s the matter, Raphael.” Castiel lowered his head. His blue eyes gleamed, reminiscent of a lion that had just trapped its prey. “Somebody clip your wings?” 

“Castiel, please.” The archangel’s voice shook, but he held his head straight. “You let the demon go, but not your own brother?” 

“Cas . . .” Alex started.

Castiel ignored her. “The demon I have plans for. You, on the other hand . . .” Castiel raised a hand, fingers coming together in a snap. The archangel exploded in a cloud of blood, staining the floors and walls. The angel blade clattered to the cold concrete, and Alex took a step back, eyes wide at the brutality. 

Castiel looked over at the three of them before walking over to the far wall, staring at the blood sigil. “So you see,” he finally said, head held high, “I saved you.”

Dean looked over at Bobby, and then back at Alex, before he dared stepped forward. “Sure thing, Cas. Thank you.”

“You doubted me, fought against me, but I was right all along.” He turned around to face them, and Alex looked away as his feathers fluttered, bright light flashing across them with every movement. “I lived.” 

“I . . . I see that.” Alex’s wings folded even close when Castiel’s gaze came to rest on hers, and she shifted, uncomfortable under his powerful stare. “Just . . . you’ve stopped Raphael. Put the souls back.”

“What do you mean?” 

Dean hesitantly took over the explanation, tensely shifting his weight as he cradled his left wrist. “You’re full of nukes, man. It’s not safe. So, before the eclipse ends, let’s get them souls back where they belong.” 

“Oh, no, they belong with me.”

“No, Cas, i-it — it’ scrambling your brains.” 

“No, I’m not finished yet. Raphael had many followers, and I must . . . punish them all severely.” Castiel looked briefly down at the ground, looking almost regretful at what he must do. 

“No no no.” Alex stepped forward, stopping when the angel looked back up. “W-What —”

“Listen to me, man.” Dean cut her off, and Alex willingly fell silent, not sure what she even would have said. “Listen, I know there’s a lot of bad water under the bridge, but we were family once. I’d have died for you. I almost did a few times. So if that mean’s anything to you . . . please. I’ve lost Lisa, I’ve lost Ben, and now I’ve lost Sam. Don’t make me lose you too.” After a second of silence he added, more firmly this time, “You don’t need that kind of juice anymore, Cas. Get rid of it before it kills us all.” 

“Just put the souls back,” Alex pleaded. “You’re a freaking time bomb.” 

Castiel fell silent, eyes studying the ground before he looked back up, eyes hardened with resolution. “You’re just saying that because I won. Because you’re afraid. You’re not my family anymore, Dean. I —” Castiel cut off with a grunt, and Alex jumped, heart skipping a beat with fear. Sam Winchester stood behind Castiel, and Alex could feel the sting of an angel blade pushing against Castiel’s grace. 

That grace suddenly pushed out backwards, forcing Sam away. He stumbled away, groaning, and Castiel straightened up. Alex’s eyes went wide as he reached behind, pulling the angel blade out of his back and setting it on the table before him, completely unharmed. “I’m glad you made it, Sam,” he said quietly, not even sparing the younger Winchester a glance. “But the angel blade won’t work, because I’m not an angel anymore.” Light pulsed through his wings again, and he looked up, wings flaring up and out. “I’m your new God. A better one. So you will bow down and profess your love unto me, your Lord. Or I shall destroy you.”

Silence. The air hummed with tension as Castiel obviously waited fro them to do just that. Then Bobby slowly got to his knees. “Well, alright then. Is this good, or do you want the whole forehead-to-the-carpet thing?” Looking over at the Winchesters, he prompted, “Guys?” 

The Winchesters slowly knelt, and Alex’s wings flared out indignantly at the sight. “Cas!” She stepped forward, guarded anger blazing in her eyes. “Stop it! Just put the souls back!” 

Castiel turned on Alex, eyes flashing. "Alex." His voice resonated throughout the room. "Be quiet. You have no right to talk to me.” He looked at the three hunters, a frown on his face. “Stop. What's the point if you don’t mean it? You fear me. Not love, not respect, just fear.”

Sam slowly got up. “Cas . . .”

Castiel cut him off. “Sam, you have nothing to say to me. You stabbed me in the back.” He looked down at Dean and Bobby, radiant wings flicking in annoyance. “Get up.”

“Cas, this isn’t you.” Alex stepped forward, folding her wings forward, small in comparison. “These souls are messing with your mind, man.”

“The Castiel you knew is gone.” Castiel’s grace pushed against hers, hot and overwhelming, and Alex pulled away. “I’m newer. I’m better. I’m everything the old Castiel wasn’t.” He stepped forward, noting how the female angel stepped back. He raised a hand, fingers poised to snap. “I can make you mine. All it would take is a snap of my fingers.” After a second, however, he lowered it. “But I won’t. I have patience, Alex. You’ll come around soon enough.”

“Just put the souls back, Castiel! Please! I want the old you back. The one who was kind, the one who would do anything for me, the —”

“Do anything for you?” Castiel tipped his head, and his wings folded forward. Alex jumped as his feathers brushed across her arms, hot to the touch. “I am a god of grace, angel. If you follow me, I _will_ answer your prayers.” 

“Then . . . Cas." Alex spread her wings low in submission. "Bring . . . _please_. Bring back Balthazar. You can do that, right?” 

"I can." Castiel tipped his head. "But why would I? He _betrayed_ me." 

"He was following orders." 

“Orders?" Castiel’s eyes flashed, and his lips twitched upwards in a confident gesture of disbelief. "I never gave orders to betray me." 

" _I_ gave the orders." Alex stretched her wings even lower; they trembled under the effort. "He did nothing wrong. He was repaying a debt he owed me. He never would have done it otherwise.” 

"Why do you care about him?" Castiel stepped towards her, the other men in the room forgotten. His grace pulsed against hers, strong and heavy and overwhelming. 

Alex resisted pushing it away. "He was my friend, Castiel. That's all. And you killed him." There was a snap of the fingers, and Alex felt a presence beside her. She flicked her grace backwards; Balthazar. She let out a relieved and thankful breath. And then Balthazar was gone. Alex spun around, grace flicking out. “B?” 

“I’ve taken care of him. He’ll remain in heaven’s prison until I have time to properly judge him for treason.” 

“He didn’t do anything!” 

“Quiet!” Anger momentarily got the better of Castiel, and he stalked closer, leaving Alex to backpedal hastily, pressing herself into the wall. “It was a demonstration of my unending mercy and grace that I brought your friend back.”

Alex’s voice shook, and her words stuck to her throat. “Cas. You’re scaring me.” When the angel stepped back, she continued. “You can't handle all these souls. Do you even know why God created Purgatory? Do you even know what you swallowed? Leviathans, Cas. It’s going to kill you." Alex felt tears come to her eyes. "Please Castiel. You have to trust me." She inhaled shakily, tears spilling over. "I . . . I don't want you to die." 

Castiel studied her, confused as to why she would suggest such a thing. "I won't die. I can’t die; I’m God.”

“You’re not God, Cas. You’re an angel hyped up on monster souls —” She cut off as Castiel’s wings flared wide, and she pushed herself further into the wall, wings curled around her to make her as small as possible. Then puzzlement crossed Castiel’s face, his eyes focusing on her nose. “It’s broken.”

“Demons flipped the car,” Alex whispered. Castiel reached up, fingers brushing across her nose, and Alex let out a small noise of terror as his grace rushed through her, completely overwhelming her senses. 

“Cas. Get away from her.” It was Dean’s voice that had Castiel turning, grace leaving the female angel. The hunter was on his feet, a challenge in his eyes that quickly faded. “Don’t hurt her, man. Kill me if you want —”

“What a brave little ant you are.” Castiel walked back over to the Winchester. “You know you’re powerless; you wouldn’t dare move against me. That would be pointless. So I have no need to kill you. Not now. Besides . . . once you were my favorite pets before you turned and bit me.”

“Who are you?” 

“I’m God. And if you stay in your place, you may live in my kingdom. If you rise up, I will strike you down. Not doing so well, are you Sam?” Castiel turned his head to look at the Winchester, who was swaying, unsteady on his feet.

“I’m . . . fine.” Sam cleared his throat in an attempt to steady his shaking voice. “I’m fine.” He straightened 

Dean stepped forward. “You said you would fix him — you promised!” 

“ _If_ you stood down, which you hardly did. Be thankful for my mercy.” Castiel looked back at Sam. “I could have cast you back down in the pit.” 

“Cas!” 

Castiel barely spared Alex a second glance. “Quiet,” he commanded. “You’ve already received your miracle.”

“Come on, Cas, this is nuts. You can turn this around, please!” 

“I hope for your sake that this is the last time you see me.” Castiel turned to Alex, studying her for only a few seconds. “I expect to hear from you soon.” Then he flared his powerful wings, and he was gone. 

Sam swayed even more, and Alex started. “Sam?” The hunter fell to the ground, shaking, eyes wide, and Alex was at his side in an instant. “Sam!” She pressed a hand to his head, forcing herself inside, pulling away immediately as her skin burned. 

“Sam?” Dean ran over to his fallen brother, who was gasping, unable to form words. His eyes rolled into the back of his head and he collapsed into Alex’s lap. “Sam!” 

Alex looked up, grey eyes wide. “It’s hell, Dean. He’s remembering hell.”


	21. Meet the New Boss

**February 3rd, 2012**

**Sioux Falls, South Dakota**

**A** lex was sitting on the kitchen counter, vaguely aware of what was happening around. Sam was in the panic room, still unconscious from two nights ago, and both Bobby and Dean were out in the yard. The tow truck had hauled the Impala in sometime yesterday, and she had barely seen eldest Winchester since. As if on cue, the front door opened and Dean entered, pulling off his black gloves and shoving them in his back pocket. He sent her a nod, which Alex ignored. She watched as the hunter pulled a beer out of the fridge before finally speaking. “How’s the car?”

“She’ll live.” Dean’s voice was tight, and he leaned against the counter beside her. “It’ll take some work.” He cracked open his drink and took a swig.

“Cold out?”

“Yeah. Could be worse, though.”

Footsteps approached, near silent, but Alex looked up nevertheless to see Sam step into view. He had changed, and was now wearing jeans and a dark, long sleeve v-neck. “Hey, Dean.”

Dean Winchester looked up. “Ah, you’re walking and talking.”

“Yeah, I, uh, put on my own socks, the whole nine.” Sam entered the kitchen and sat down on the table, looking up at his older brother, and Alex shot a quick glance down at his feet to see that he was in fact wearing socks.

 “Well, that’s, uh, . . . I mean you, uh, you’re sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah. My head hurts a little, but . . . basically.”

“Seriously?”

“Look man, I’m as surprised as you are, but yeah. I swear.”

Dean studied his brother for a second before nodding firmly. “Good. No reason putting a gift horse under a microscope, right?”

“Yeah. So what happened with Cas?”

“Why don’t you come help me with the car. I’ll fill you in.” Without waiting for an answer Dean walked back towards the front door.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll be right there.” Sam waited until Dean was gone before looking up at Alex. “Hey. Are you okay?”

Alex didn’t immediately respond, instead taking her time to run her gaze over the Winchester before focusing on the desk in the study. “I’m fine, Sam,” she finally said.

“Really? I think you and I are remembering last night differently —”

“Two nights ago,” Alex corrected, voice emotionless. “It’s Friday. And I am fine.”

“Okay.” Sam gave up, pulling himself to his feet. “I’m going to go help Dean then. But, I mean, if you want to talk . . .”

“Thank you.” Alex turned her gaze to him. “But that won’t be necessary.” She watched as Sam got up to leave, head tipping to one side as he paused, staring into the study. “Sam,” she prompted. “Samuel.”

Sam turned to look at her, confusion written across his face. “I, uh, I’m fine.” And with that, he walked away, leaving Alex to slid back into her own thoughts.

 

 **F** ootsteps echoed on the stairs, and Alex raised her head. She was seated in the basement, having grown tired of her surroundings in the kitchen some time ago. A gentle pulse of her grace proved it to be Sam, and she stirred, raising her head. The hunter didn’t see her, disappearing around the other side of the stairs. Metal rattled as he dug Bobby’s old toolbox, obviously intent on finding a specific tool. The noises stopped, and Alex heard Sam’s breathing increase. “No no no, this can’t be happening,” he whispered.

Alex pulled herself to her feet, worried. “Sam?” She circled around the stairs to find Sam in the corner of the room, looking around wildly, wrench raised in defense. “Sam.”

“Hey, Sam!” Bobby appeared at the top of the stairs, peering down at the two of them. Sam looked up at the hunter, blinking in confusion as Bobby continued. “What are you, taking a nap down here?” He descended halfway down the stairs so he could see them better. Sam immediately dropped the wrench back down to his side, and Bobby looked over at Alex. “It’s Cas, we think. Come on.”

“Cas?” Alex slipped past Bobby and hurried up the stairs. The two hunters followed behind her as she made her way into the kitchen were Dean was staring at the tv.

It was the local news. “The sudden deaths of more than 200 religious leaders are currently under investigation” the reporter was saying. “The Vatican has yet to issue a statement, but some are already calling this an act of God.”

The screen cut to a young woman, eyes wide. “We all saw him,” she insisted. “No beard, no robe. He was young . . . and . . . and sexy.” Here Alex let out a snort of amusement, crossing her arms as the woman continued. “He had a raincoat.”

Dean shut off the tv, looking over at the three of them. “Sounds like him,” Alex agreed, eyes still trained on the darkened screen. “He’s . . . killing religious leaders.” Her wings pulled in tight at the realization. “Oh my God.”

“We might want to come up with a new saying for that.” Bobby left the room, leaving Alex alone with the Winchesters in the kitchen. Before either of them could speak, Alex disappeared upstairs.

 

 **S** he only came back downstairs late that night. Sam was at the kitchen table, fast asleep on a pile of books, and the young angel could feel both Dean and Bobby outside. As she opened the fridge Sam gasped, jerking awake. “You okay?” she asked over her shoulder.

“I . . . I’m fine.” Sam shakily got to his feet and walked into the study. Alex, finding nothing in the fridge, followed, sitting on the couch beside him and then laying down, resting her head in his lap. He didn’t protest, and after a few seconds of silence she spoke, “I’ve been thinking today,” she began.

“Yeah. It seems like that’s all you’ve been doing lately.”

“About when Balthazar unsank the Titanic,” Alex continued, ignoring his interruption. “Remember that night after Balthazar told you I was Cas’ mate? You woke me up in the middle of the night and made me promise that I wouldn’t leave you.” She felt Sam’s uncomfortableness mingle with her own and she laughed. “We thought we could somehow change in this world. Like we could do anything.”

“Why are you talking about this?”

“I miss it,” Alex said simply. “I mean, you, me, grumpy old Dean. None of this angel-romance crap. I didn’t have to worry about Castiel, about Lucifer, about Balthazar. We were just typical humans with . . . with an atypical job. It was nice.”

“But you don’t . . . you know . . .”

Alex shrugged the best she could, given her position. “I’m twenty-two years old, Sam. Outside of Cas — who doesn’t really count — that was the closest thing I’ve ever had to a real relationship. Boyfriend. Partner. Mate. Call it what you want.” She sat up to look into Sam’s eyes. “I don’t love you, Sam. But I do care about you.”

“Alex.”

“I’m worried about you, Sam. Cas tore down that entire wall.” Alex leaned forward to look even deeper into the hunter’s eyes. “Have you been seeing things? Hearing things? Anything. Please. Tell me.”

“I’m fine.”

“You can’t lie to me, Sam Winchester. We dated for two years.”

“One and a half.” Then Sam looked away. “They haven’t been that bad,” he promised. “Uh, just flashbacks here and there. Meathooks, fire. That's it.” He looked back up into Alex’s eyes. “I swear.”

“Okay.” Alex got up off of the couch, scrutinizing Sam for any sign of deceit. “If . . . if they get any worse tell me. There might be something I can do.” Her gaze dropped down to his left hand, where white bandages stood in stark contrast against his tan skin. “How’s the hand?”

“It’s, uh, it’s fine.” Sam self-consciously touched it with two fingers. It had happened when he had collapsed back in the warehouse, slamming his palm onto a large shard of glass. Dean had been able to get all of the pieces out, but it had required a lot of stitches.

“You sure? It’s pretty deep.”

“Yeah. I’m sure.” Sam stood up as well. “Where’s Dean and Bobby?”

“Uh, outside.” Alex flicked out her grace. “Um, in the painting shed. Yeah. I think Dean’s going try and paint her tonight.”

“Huh.” Sam grabbed his jacket and walked out the door, leaving Alex to follow behind. The air was surprisingly warm for early February, and she was content just to roll down the sleeves of her jacket as she caught up with the tall hunter.

“Seriously though, Bobby.” Dean’s voice reached Alex’s ears, and she tipped her head to hear even better. “Look at our lives. How many more hits can we take? So if Sam says he’s good . . . _good_.”

Alex walked up to the entrance of the painting shed in time to hear Bobby ask, “You believe that?”

“Yeah.” After a second’s pause, Dean sighed. “No. You want to know why? Because we never catch a break. So why would we this time? I just . . . just this one thing, you know? But I’m not dumb. I’m not going to get my hopes up just to get kicked in the daddy-pills again.”

Sam pushed his way past Alex, and she hurried after him. “Hey.”

Both Bobby and Dean looked surprised at their appearance. Bobby was the first to regain his voice. “Hey. How you feeling, sport?”

“Can’t complain.” Sam glanced over at the Impala, tarps taped over the windows.

Dean nodded. “Great. What’s the word?” He was wearing a pair of blue coveralls over jacket, and gestured towards his brother with a roll of masking tape.

“Well, a publishing house literally _exploded_ about an hour ago. Guys, the body count is really getting up there. We gotta do something.”

“What we got to do is hunt the son of bitch. Unfortunately I lost my God guns.”

Alex rolled her eyes at Bobby’s sarcasm, and Sam seemed to share in her lack of amusement. “Well, I mean is there some sort of heavenly weapon? Maybe something out of the angel arsenal that Balthazar stole?” He looked down at Alex. “There’s got to be something.”

The young angel shrugged hesitantly. “Cas has most of the weapons now,” she admitted. “But, uh, I can ask Balthazar, if I can find a way into heaven. There’s a few strings I can pull . . .”

“No.” Dean firmly shook his head. “He’s God. There’s nothing. But there might be someone.”

“Dean. No.” Alex’s wings pulled in tight. “You’re not . . . We’re not summoning _Death_ to kill Castiel.”

“He’s not Castiel,” Dean snapped. “Okay? This dude is, is fucking Ashbrook on steroids.”

“How are we gonna get a hold of Death?” Bobby posed, looking up at the eldest Winchester.

“Crowley.”

“Jesus, Dean! Do you have any plans that aren’t suicidal?” Alex threw her arms up in anger. “I’m going to go talk to him.” She spun around only to find a hand on her shoulder holding her back. “Let me go!”

“You can’t just _reason_ with him. Who knows what he’ll do?”

“He’ll listen to me!” Alex snapped. “I, I have to get Cas back, okay?” She shrugged out of the Winchester’s grasp and stalked outside. She wove in and out of the cars before sprinting across the open back lot and jumping the barbed wire fence. “Cas?” She stopped, tipping her head up to look into the sky. “Castiel! Get your ass down here!”

“You should show me more respect.” The air behind her glowed with light, and Alex spun around in surprise. Castiel looked down at her, obviously displeased.

“The hell have to been doing?” Alex stepped forward, immediately retreating when the wings flared up. “You blew up a _building?”_

“They were godless people.”

“So? You — you can’t go around picking petty fights like this. It’s —”

“ ‘Petty fights?’ ” Castiel stepped forward, and Alex hastily backpedaled. “They’re not petty. I’m doing my job.” He held out his hands in emphasis, and suddenly all of Alex’s attention zeroed in on them.

“Cas.” She forced herself forward, taking the angel’s hand in hers. The skin was hot to the touch, and she withheld her grace for fear of hurting herself. “What are they doing to you?” She traced the sore along his thumb, so much like those that had been scattered across Lucifer’s vessel. “They’re eating you from the inside.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine. Dude, you have to put them back. You're going to _explode_.”

“Why did you call me here?”

“Why . . . I just told you why! Put the souls back!” The light was gone, and so was Castiel, and Alex spun around, eye wide. “Cas!” she yelled. “Get your feathery ass back down here, you coward!”

Nothing.

 

 **A** lex stomped down the basement stairs, stopping to see a very familiar man standing in the corner. Her feather ruffled in displeasure, and her gaze dropped down to his feet. “Ooh, careful,” she deadpanned. “That devil’s trap might be too big for him. Don’t want to give him room to roam.” She leaned against the post, crossing her arms. Dean stood beside her, visibly bristling.

Crowley looked down at the devil’s trap around his feet, little more than three feet in diameter. “At least one person here cares about my wellbeing,” he quipped, glaring over at Bobby Singer. “My new boss is going to kill me for even talking to you lads.”

“Well you’re lucky we’re not stabbing you in your face, you —”

“Whoa whoa whoa.” Sam cut his brother off. “Wait. What new boss?”

“Castiel, you giraffe.”

“Is he your boss?”

“He’s everyone’s boss,” the demon retorted. “What do you think he’s going to do when he finds out we’ve been conspiring?” He motioned to Bobby Singer with his glass. “You do want to conspire, don’t you?”

“No. We want you to stand there and look pretty.”

The demon managed to look amused at Bobby’s words. “Listening.”

“We need a spell to bind Death,” Dean cut in.

“Bind? _Enslave_ Death? You’re having a laugh?”

Sam straighten up. “Lucifer did it.”

“That’s Lucifer.”

“A spell’s a spell.”

“You really think you can handle that kind of horsepower?” Crowley looked between the two Winchesters, mouth hanging open ever so slightly. “You’re delusional!”

“Death is the only player on the board that has the kind of juice to take on Cas.”

 “They’ll both mash us up like peas. Why should I help with a suicide mission?”

“Look!” Bobby stood up, through with the demon’s attitude. “Do you really want Cas running the universe?”

Crowley opened his mouth but fell silent. Instead, he contented himself with pouring another drink. “If I get you a spell to bind Death,” he began slowly, “you leave me out of it. You take down Cas, and I get back my free reign of hell. No more summoning, more more chasing me down. Deal?”

“Deal.”

“Good. Now.” Crowley motioned to the ground. “Do you mind?”

Dean stepped forward, flicking out his knife. He knelt down beside Crowley, who let out a small noise of amusement at the sight before disappearing. Alex shook out her wings in distaste. “Well, that went well.”

“Did you talk to Cas?”

“He’s not giving it up.” Before any of the hunters could push her further, Alex disappeared upstairs.

 

 **T** he next afternoon found Alex outside in the salvage yard. Sam was with her, and together they were stripping out the inside of one of the new Fords that had showed up that morning. The tires were already stacked across the row, and Alex glanced over at them as she pulled the manual out of the glove compartment. “You think Crowley’s really going to help us?” she finally asked, sitting up.

“What?” The hunter’s head popped up from over the backseat.

Alex looked back, a small smile on her face at the sight. “You ever consider wearing your hair back?” she teased, reaching back to smooth down a section that was sticking every which way. “I could see you pulling off a top knot or something, eh?”

Sam knocked her hand away. “You said something about Crowley?”

“Yeah. Think he’s actually going to help?”

“I think so, yeah. Doesn't seem like the kind of guy who’d want an angel bossing him around.” Sam brushed his hair out of his face before pushing the driver’s seat forward. The rest of the screw popped off, and it fell halfway out the door. “I mean, he hates us, but I think he hates Cas more.”

Alex nodded, sated with his answer. “Yeah,” she agreed. “I guess.” A dark shape moved out of her peripheral vision, and she sat straight up, grace pushing outwards. “Demons.” Alex jumped out of the car and tore toward the house, Sam close on her heels.

“What?” Sam easily caught up to her, stopping beside the backdoor as she caught up.

“Demons. Well, demon. I think just one. He’s gone now.” Curiosity aroused, the female angel entered the house, looking around. “Bobby?”

“In here.” Bobby was standing in the study, a large white envelope in his hands. “Look what came in the mail.”

“I felt a demon.”

“He probably slipped it under the door.” Bobby opened the envelope and pulled out a old piece of parchment. Alex hurried over to stand next to Dean to see what was on it. It was old, very old, written in an obscure Latin dialect. On the bottom right hand side, however, was a green post-it note, this one written in English. _‘Bye forever you fools,’_ it read, _‘Kisses, C.’_

Alex looked up at Sam, who nodded.

“It’s from Crowley,” Bobby confirmed, handing the ornate parchment to Dean. Sam shifted closer to his brother to see over his shoulder.

Dean scanned it once before looking back up. “Well, who feels like hogtying Death tonight?”

Sam nodded and Bobby shrugged. “Old age is overrated anyhow.” He took the parchment back. “I’ll get started translating. Should be easy enough. Give me twenty minutes and get back to me.” And with that, he sat down at his desk.

Alex held back an amused noise. “Twenty minutes? Wow. That’s way too long. I’ll be back in ten.”

“Oh shut up.”

 

 **B** obby finished translating in nine. It was Dean who came out and got Alex and Sam, who had returned to stripping down the Ford. “He’s done,” he told them, rapping on the hood to get their attention. “Come on.”

When they reentered the house Bobby was still sitting at the desk. “Well, we’ve got most of the stuff, but we’re going to have to make a run for a few things,” he said as they walked into the study.

“Like?”

“Like an ‘act of God crystallized forever.’ ”

Sam let out an amused noise, sitting down on the couch. “What’s that suppose to mean?”

“Thinking it means an actual crystal.” Bobby clicked on the trackpad of his laptop, and Alex and Dean walked over to him to see what it was. “See, when lightning strikes sand at the right angle, it crystallizes into the perfect shape of itself.”

“Lightning. Act of God.”

“Like Zeus,” Alex put in helpfully. She studied the website on the screen. A object sat there, long, narrow, and crystalline. Next to the picture sat the words: _Category: Fulgurites._

“Jenga. You got yourself a fulgurite and we’re gonna need a biggie.”

Dean put a hand on the back of Bobby’s chair, leaning down. “And let me guess . . . rare.”

“I found records of an auction. Winning bidder lives about nine hours from here.” Bobby closed his laptop and stood up, leaving Alex no choice but to step out of the way. “We can get there by midnight, summon Death, and be home in time lunch.”

“Sounds good to me.” Alex walked into the kitchen and threw open the fridge. “I’m guessing we’ll be leaving in the next few minutes?”

“As soon as I get everything packed.”

 

 **A** lex brushed her fingers over the gate, letting her grace slide the pins into position before turning the padlock. It clicked open and she pushed her way through, Bobby and the two Winchesters close behind. “Back door?” she asked, motioning towards the large mansion across the lawn. “Otherwise there’s a door to the, uh, the basement on the right.”

Bobby nodded, taking control. “Basement. Dean, stay behind. Take out an security.”

“Yep.” Dean fell back as the three of them hurried across the lawn and around the side of the house. Bobby reached the basement door first, letting Alex slip past to unlock it herself.

“Hey!” Light fell on her hands, and Alex looked up, squinting against the bright light of the flashlight.

“Excuse me, do you have any Grey Poupon?” When the security guard spun around in confusion, Dean knocked him out with the butt of his shotgun. The man collapsed, unconscious.

Alex let out an amused snort, but Sam turned his flashlight on his brother. “ ‘Grey Poupon?’ ” he repeated. “Seriously?”

“It’s what popped into my head.”

Alex clicked open the lock and the two brothers ceased their bickering, attention turned back to the job at hand. Alex led the way in, grace pushing out to search the entire house. “Two people upstairs,” she informed them as she pulled back. “Asleep, as far as I can tell.”

“Good.” Dean pushed past her to take the lead, and Alex followed him up the stairs, eyes scanning the unfinished basement. As he reached the main floor he veered off to the right; after a second’s hesitation Alex followed, leaving Sam and Bobby to search the left.

The room was dark, lit only by Dean’s bobbing flashlight and the faint moonlight that spilled in from the dusty windows. Antiques sat on pedestals around the room, and Dean stopped to check out each one. Seeing that all was in order, Alex moved through a doorway into a large dining room. Seeing nothing that remotely resembled the fulgurite, she continued on through the expansive house.

“I’m the one with the firearm, son!” A voice growled, and Alex raised her head, grace pushing out. Two unknown people, one male, one female. They were in the same room with Dean, who was responding in a low voice. A scuffle followed, and Alex ran through the twisting and turning rooms, sliding to a stop to see the two strangers.

They were sitting in two chairs, and Dean had securely tied up the man, and was now starting on the woman, zip tying her wrists to the arms of the chair “Oh,” she finally said. “Uh . . .”

She was saved from continuing by the appearance of both Bobby and Sam. Dean looked up. “Okay, yeah. Good. Hey guys. So, uh, this is Dr. and Mrs. Weiss.” He slid the makeshift gag — made out of a dish towel as Alex noted — into Mrs. Weiss’ mouth before stepping back.

Sam let out an apologetic smile. “Hi. Sorry.”

“I found the god thingy.” Dean crossed the room to stand by a small glass box. Alex followed him to see that the fulgurite sat inside.

“That’s it? It looks like a rock.”

“It is a rock.” Bobby dropped his duffle bag on the large wooden desk. “Let’s light this candle. Here’s about as good a place as any.” He slid the books off of the desk and held out a piece of chalk. Alex took it and drew a circle on the desk while Bobby pulled out the candles. Remembering the sigil, she drew an X inside, and then an upside down triangle through the lower half. Circles on the corners, and finally a line through the X and triangle with a U shaped mark through the top. Deeming it good enough she stepped back to watch as Sam crushed the fulgurite into the bowl, ignoring how the bound couple across the room yelled their muffled protests. He looked up at Alex, and she smiled in amusement. “They can buy another,” she whispered before stepping back.

Bobby poured his blend of herbs into the metal bowl and took Alex’s place, fixing the candle’s placement one more time before nodding at Dean. The hunter finished arranging the brown paper bag and drink on the counter — they had stopped at a small diner on the way in to get Death pickle chips — before walking over to Bobby, rolling up his sleeve. He winced as the blade slid through his forearm, blood dripping into a smaller bowl. When Bobby nodded again he wrapped his arm in a bandana, muttering out, “You’re welcome.”

Sam looked half-amused.

Bobby poured the blood in with the rest of the ingredients before clearing his throat. “ _Te nunc invoco, mortem. Te en mea potestate defixi. Nunc et in arternum.”_

_I now invoke you, death. You are fixed in my power. Now and forever._

The house rumbled as Bobby spoke, and Alex looked around, wings pulled in tight. Books fell off of their shelves, glass shattered, and the ceiling cracked under the pressure, and then all was still. There was nothing.

Alex looked around in confusion; that confusion was echoed on the other’s faces as well. Bobby stepped back and Dean moved forward, looking around the room. “Uh, hello?” He turned around to face the room. “Death?”

“You’re joking.”

Alex jumped at the horseman’s sudden appearance behind the Winchester. Dean spun around, surprised. “I’m sorry, Death. This isn’t what it looks like.”

“Seems like you bound me.” Death calmly raised his hands, and a silver, glimmering line appeared between his wrists. When he lowered his hands, they faded. He stepped forward, the moonlight accentuating his pale and sunken face. His eyes, however, gleamed with a black light.

“For good reason, okay? Just hear us out. Um . . . fried pickle chip?” Dean hurried over to the brown bag, holding it out. “They’re the best in the state.”

“That easy to sooth me, you think?” Death’s gaze slid from Dean over to Alex, and then back to Sam. “This is about Sam’s hallucinations, I assume?”

“What?”

Death ignored him. “Sorry, Sam. One wall per customer. Now unbind me.”

“W-We can’t,” Sam stuttered out. “Y-yet.”

“This isn’t going to end well,” the Horseman warned, and Alex shivered as his displeasure chilled the room. He paced to the other side of the room, turning at Dean’s next words.

“We need you to kill God,” the hunter explained.

“Pardon?”

“Kill God,” Bobby repeated. “You heard right.” Death turned to look at Bobby, who finished with a stuttered, “Your . . . Honor.”

Death seemed sated with the Bobby’s words. “What makes you think that I can do that?”

“You . . . told me?”

“Why should I?”

Dean faltered a bit. “Because . . . We said so, and we’re the boss of you.” Both Bobby and Sam looked at him, and he quickly added, “I mean . . . respectfully.”

“Amazing.” Grace mixed with anger pushed through the room and Alex flinched at the overwhelming power. She looked up to see Castiel, mouth falling open at what she saw. The angel’s face was red, the skin giving way to sores under his eyes and cheeks. His wings, however, still burned with a holy light, and Alex couldn’t understand why the room was still so dark.

“Cas,” Sam started.

The angel cut him off. “I didn’t want to kill you,” he warned, speaking to all of them, “but now . . .”

“You can’t kill us,” Dean stated.

“You’ve erased any nostalgia I had for you, Dean.” Castiel raised his right hand, fingers together in a snap, ready to destroy all of them.

Dean shook his head, stopping the angel in his tracks . “Death is our bitch,” he explained. “We ain’t gonna die, even if God pulls the trigger.”

“Annoying little protozoa, aren’t they?” Death cocked an eyebrow, looking the angel up and down. “ ‘God?’ You look like an awfully mutated angel to me. Your vessel’s melting. You’re going to explode.”

“No I’m not. When I’ve finished my work I will repair myself.”

“Cas —”

“Alex. Quiet.”

Death studied Alex for only a second before looking back to Castiel. “You think you can simply because you’re under the weight of all those souls, yes? But that’s not the worse problem. There are things much older than souls in Purgatory, and you gulped them in too.”

“Irrelevant. I control them.”

“For the moment.”

“Wait — uh, what older things?”

“Leviathans,” Alex spat. “Dammit, Cas, I told you! Look what they’re doing to —” Grace pushed against her and she stumbled back, wings trembling in fear.

“Castiel.” Death’s calm voice had the angel turning his attention back to him. “Long before God created angel and man he created the first beast — Leviathans. I personally found them entertaining, but he was concerned they’d chomp the whole petri dish, so he locked them away.”

“They ate an archangel,” Alex explained, cutting off when Death turned his gaze to her. “That’s what got them locked away,” she finished with a mutter.

Death, however, just nodded in agreement with her statement. “Why do you think he created Purgatory?” he asked Dean, and Alex looked over at Castiel to see that his gaze was on the ground, large wings lowered as he took in what the Horseman was saying. “It was to keep those clever, poisonous things out. Now Castiel has swallowed them. He’s the one, thin membrane between the Old Ones and your home.”

“Enough.”

Death held Castiel’s gaze. “Stupid little soldier you are.”

“Why?” Castiel stalked forward, wings arching high above his head. “Because I dared open a door that He had shut? Where is He? I did a service, taking His place.” He stopped in front of Death, who seemed altogether unintimidated.

“Service? Settling petty vendettas?”

“No. I’m cleaning up one mess after another — selflessly.”

“Quite the humanitarian,” the Horseman quipped.

“And how would you know?” Castiel stepped closer, staring down into Death’s dark eyes. “What are you really? A flyswatter?”

“Destined to swat you, I think.”

“Unless I take you first.”

Alex shifted closer to Sam, wings pulled in tight at the ever-growing tension between perhaps the two most powerful things in the world.

Death’s gaze flickered briefly over to her at the movement, but it was enough to lessen the pressure int he room. “Really bought his own press, this one.” He turned around and walked in a small circle, stopping a foot back from the angel. “Really, Cas. I know God, and you sir, are no God.”

“All right, put away your junk, both of you.” Dean stepped forward, stopping when both turned to look at him. “Look, call him what you want. Just kill him now!”

Castiel turned to look at Dean, large, glowing feathers ruffling out in anger.

“Alright, fine.” Death raised his hand, ready to smite the angel and Alex looked away, not wanting to watch. Then there was a snap; something shattered, and Castiel was still there. The young angel looked up in time to see the silver bonds around Death’s arms fall away. The Horseman lowered his hand. “Thank you. Shall we kickbox now?” He walked over to the chair beside Dean, who quickly backed away, and sat down. “I had a tingle I’d be reaping someone very, very soon.” He took the bag of pickle chips and glanced at Dr. and Mrs. Weiss, all but forgotten on the other side of the room. “Don’t worry — not you.” He turned back to the four of them and then stopped. “Well, he was in a hurry.”

Alex looked around to see that Castiel was gone, and she visibly relaxed.

Death ate another pickle chip, and then another before taking his drink in hand. All four stood there in silence, not sure what to do. Sam and Dean stared at each other, each making increasingly more urgent looks with each passing second.

Death finished his chips, and only a few seconds later reached the end of his drink, slurping loudly. Finally Dean cleared his throat. “Uh . . .”

“Shut up, Dean.” Death set his drink down on the table, not even looking at the hunter. “I’m not here to tie your shoes each time you trip. I warned you about these souls how long ago?” He threw his crumpled up napkin into the bag, finally glaring over at the hunter. “Long enough to stop that fool. And here were are again, with your little planet on the edge of immolation.” The Horseman grabbed his cane and stood up.

“Well I’m sorry. Alright?” Dean’s voice grew loud and sharp. “I’ve been trying to save this planet, so maybe you should find somebody better to tip off.”

“Maybe I should have spent my efforts on a different planet,” the Horseman countered, his own voice cold and quiet in comparison. “Well, it’s been amusing.” He turned to go.

“Wait, h-hold on, hold on.” Sam stepped forward, obviously very nervous. “Just — can you give us something? You — you have to care a bit about what happens to us.”

“You know, I really don’t. But I do find that little angel _arrogant_.”

“Great,” Dean nodded, “let’s go with that.”

“Your only hope is to have him return it all to Purgatory. Quickly.”

“We need a door.”

Death turned to look at Sam. “You have everything you need at that lab. Get him to return there and _compel_ him to give up the power.”

“Compel?”

“Figure it out.”

Bobby finally spoke. “But that door only opens in the eclipse, and that’s over.”

“I’ll make another. 3:59 Sunday morning, just before dawn. Be punctual. Don’t thank me. Clean up your mess.” Death moved towards the door before stopping His voice grew threatening, but he didn’t look back. “Try and bind me again, you’ll die before you start.” He walked out of the room. “Nice pickle chips, by the way.” Then Death was gone, and the room fell silent.

“Sunday,” Alex finally said. “That’s in two days. We — we have less than twenty four hours to get Cas to give up the souls.”

 

 **T** hey were back in Sioux Falls by lunchtime the next day. Alex was sitting in the study on her laptop, just trying to pass time until Bobby woke up and they could finally do something.

“You want some coffee with that?” Footsteps signaled the approach of Sam, who was now standing in the doorway between the study and the kitchen. His attention was focused on Dean, who Alex knew for a fact he was holding a half-empty glass of whiskey.

“It’s 6:00 pm somewhere,” Dean grumbled.

“We got to hit the road,” Sam finally said. “I mean, how else are we suppose to get Cas to that lab by fucking 3:59 am?” Alex looked up to see that his backpack was slung over one shoulder, and in his arms was his jacket. He looked ready to go.

“We don’t.”

A pause, and Alex sat up. “What do you mean, ‘We don’t?’ ” she repeated. She closed her laptop and stalked past Sam to look down at the oldest Winchester.

“I mean we can’t bring a horse to water, and we can’t _make_ it drink. Why fool ourselves?”

Sam sighed. “Dean, I know you think Cas is gone —”

“Cause he is.”

“He’s not! He’s in there somewhere, Dean. I know it!”

“No, you don’t.”

Sam hesitated . “No, I don’t,” he finally agreed. “But look, I was pretty far gone sometimes myself, and you never gave up on me.”

“Yeah, and it turns out you’re about the same open book you’ve always been.” The table creaked as Dean lowered his feet, looking straight up into his brother’s eyes. “Hallucinations? Really? I got to find that out from _Death?”_ He reached for the bottle of whiskey and unscrewed the cap.

“What was I suppose to do?”

“How about not lie? How hard is it to tell me that you’ve got crazy shit climbing those walls?”

“Why? You can’t help.” Dean put the bottle down and rolled his shoulders back, and Sam continued. “You got a lot of pretty severe crap swinging your way lately, and — and I thought — what? I thought why burst the one good bubble you had left? It’s under control.”

“What? What exactly is under control?”

“I know what’s real and what’s not,” Sam expounded.

“Sam —”

“Look, Dean, we can debate this once we deal with Cas.”

“Yeah, you know how I’m gonna deal?” Dean threw his legs back up onto the table, leaning back in his chair. “I’m gonna stuff my piehole, I’m gonna drink, and I’m gonna watch some Asian cartoon porn and act like the whole fucking world’s about to explode because it is. Hey.” Suddenly he sat up straight, leaning close to his open laptop as something popped up.

“What?” Alex hurried over to stand behind him, looking over his shoulder.

“You got to be kidding me.” Dean pointed the headline of Wixa 4 News. “ ‘Massacre at the campaign office of an incumbent Senator by a trench coated man.’ There’s security footage.” He clicked on the video, and the picture started moving. A very familiar looking man was standing in the center, and two people were confronting him, a man and a woman. Alex narrowed her eyes, and they widened once again as the man turned to look into the camera. It was Cas, but Alex had never seen that expression on his face before. His mouth was stretched wide in a smile, eyes dark and . . . almost insane. The video stopped, and Dean and Sam looked at each other. “Well, uh, I think reaching Cas is, uh out of the cards,” Dean finally said.

Alex stepped back, not sure what to do. She shook her head, once, twice, and then ran out of the room and up the stairs.

 

 **G** race pulsed through the house, overwhelming yet weak with pain. Alex sat up, recognizing that feeling immediately. She tore down the stairs and into the kitchen to find Castiel leaning against the wall, hunched over and covered in blood. “Cas?”

“Sam?” Castiel looked up at the tall hunter, who was sitting across from Dean, a glass in his hand. “I heard your call. I . . . I need help.” Then the angel collapsed.

Alex ran over to him, dropping to her knees by his side. Castiel remained unresponsive, and she looked up at Sam, eyes wide. “Get Bobby.”

 

**Bootbock, Kansas**

**T** he room was dark, lit only by the moonlight from high above. They were back in Bootbock, Kansas, and it was already 3:40 am. Castiel had woken up in the car, and was now on the ground, back against one of the large pieces of equipment in the middle of the room. Alex sat beside him, doing her best to clean the dried blood off of his face. “We need the right blood,” Castiel was saying. “There’s a small jar — end of the hall, s-supply closet.”

Sam nodded. “Got it.” He hurried off, and Castiel hissed as Alex accidentally shifted against his wings.

“Sorry,” she murmured, readjusting her position. “You’re going to be fine. We’ll put the souls back, and you’ll be fine.”

Castiel brushed her hand away, looking up. “Dean?”

Dean paused from where he was clearing away a wall. “What? You need something?”

“No. I feel . . . regret, about you and what I did to Sam.”

Dean’s gaze hardened, and he slid a cart out of the way. “Yeah, well, you should.”

“If there were time, if I was strong enough — I’d fix him now. I just wanted to make amends before I die.”

“You’re not going to die,” Alex muttered through clenched teeth, purposefully dragging the rag a bit too roughly against his cheek.

Dean stopped what he was doing, giving the angel the benefit of his doubt. “Okay.”

After a second’s pause Castiel looked back up. “Is it working?”

 “Does it make you feel better?”

“No.” Castiel lowered his head. “You?”

“Not a bit.”

Castiel sighed, and Alex reached to turn his head so she could reached the other side of his forehead. “You’ll be just fine,” she promised. “Just, just a bit longer, okay? If you need grace I —”

“No.” Castiel shook his head. “I don’t need your help.”

“Oh. Okay.” Alex stood up, discarding the rag off to the side. “Where’s Sam?” she wondered aloud. “We need that blood.”

Bobby nodded, looking up from where he was reading over the spell. “It’s go time,” he agreed. “Dean. Go find him.”

“Hey —”

“Bobby —”

“Go. Leave her to look after her mate.” Bobby stepped aside, and Dean hurried down the hall.

He came back only a minute later, holding the jar. “Sam’s MIA,” he told them. “He left this on the ground.” He checked his watch before hurrying over to the wall and unscrewing the lid.

 

 **A** lex watched as he carefully painted the large sigil on the wall, only referencing the sketch once of twice. When he finished he stepped back, scrutinizing his work for any signs of trouble.

“That’s good enough.” Bobby shoved his watch into his pocket and stepped forward, pulling Castiel to his feet. Alex helped, only letting go when the angel took a wobbly step forward. “Step right up, Cas.” Bobby let go and picked up his book. “ _Ianua magna purgatorii, clausa est ob nos lumine eius ab oculis nostris retento sed nunc stamus ad limen huius ianuae magnae et demisse fideliter perhonorifice paramus aperire eam.”_

The sigil began to glow like fire, and then parts of the wall peeled away, being sucked into the darkness behind. Wind swirled through the room, and Alex stepped forward, only to be stopped when Castiel hold out a hand. “I’m sorry.”

_“Creaturae terrificae quarum ungulae et dentes nunquam tetigerunt carnem eius ad mundum nostrum nunc ianua magna, aperta tandem!”_

Suddenly Castiel’s wings lit up like the sun, and he threw his head back as the light centered in his chest before shooting out of him and into the hole. The ground trembled and Alex stepped back, unable to tear her eyes away.

Then the hole closed completely, and Castiel fell to the ground.

“Cas?” Dean stepped towards the angel.

Alex dove past him, kneeling in front of Castiel. She took his head in her hands, grace pulsing against his.

“He’s cold.” Bobby knelt beside her.

“Is he breathing?” Dean asked.

A hand moved through hers to rest in front of Castiel’s mouth. Then Bobby said, “No.”

“He’s not dead,” Alex snapped. “His — his grace is still there. I can feel it.” She tore her gaze away from Castiel’s face for only a moment to add, “And his wings are still there.” She vaguely noted that they had returned to their original blue.

“Maybe angel’s don’t need to breathe,” Bobby suggested.

“He’s not waking up.” Alex’s body trembled with exertion as she continued to push at his grace, trying to resuscitate it, but it stubbornly refused to expand, to fill the vessel beneath her.

“Dammit.” Dean stood up, and Bobby followed suit. “Cas, you child. Why didn’t you ever listen to me? I —”

Suddenly Castiel’s grace pulsed outwards, and his eyes snapped open. The sores on his vessel faded, and Alex’s wings curled around him. “Cas?”

Castiel blinked, drawing in a deep breath before raising his head.

“Hey. Hey.” Dean knelt down, and together he and Alex helped him sit up. “You alright?”

Castiel looked up at Dean. “That was unpleasant.”

Alex grinned, throwing her arms around Castiel’s neck, pulling him close. “Missed you,” she teased, pulling back only when Bobby put a hand on his shoulder.

“Let’s get him up,” he suggested, and Alex nodded, stepping back so the two hunters could help the angel stand on shaky feet.

“I’m alive,” Castiel murmured, turning his head to look at the wall behind him.

“Are you okay?” Alex stepped forward, grace against his. “You — do you feel anything? You got rid of them all, right?” When Castiel didn’t respond Alex pushed her way through the two hunters to stare up into Castiel’s eyes. “They’re gone, right? The leviathans.”

Castiel swallowed thickly. “I’m going to redeem myself,” he promised her. “I mean it.”

“Cas.”

Suddenly the angel’s wings pulled in tight, and he let out a gasp of pain. “You need to run.” Alex opened her mouth to protest but Castiel’s wings flared out. “Now!” He doubled over in pain, and then Dean was immediately at his side. “I can’t hold them back!”

“Hold them back?” Dean struggled to help Cas stand. “Who?”

“Leviathans!” Castiel shoved Dean away, leaving the hunter to stumble back towards Alex and Bobby. “They held on inside me,” he hissed out, wings and voice straining with the effort. “They’re so strong.”

“What the —”

“I can’t fight them.” Castiel’s grace pulled back, and Alex could physically _feel_ the fight within the angel as energy hummed through the air. “Run!” Castiel’s vessel began to convulse, limbs jerking as the supernatural creatures battled for control.

“Go!” Dean shoved Bobby and Alex ahead of them. “Go find Sam. Go get Sam!”

“Too late.”

Alex’s grace ran cold at the voice. It wasn’t Castiel’s — it wasn’t deep or kind. It was excited, crazed. She spun around to see Castiel’s vessel standing there, wings gone. He grinned at the three of them.

“C-Cas?”

The Leviathans grabbed Dean by the jacket, pulling him close. “Cas is, hmm , he’s gone.” The Leviathans shrugged, a grin across their face. “He’s . . . dead.” The laughed, and Alex’s wings flared out. “We run the show now.” With one hand they threw Dean across the room — he hit the far wall, glass shattering beneath him as he fell onto the table.

Bobby’s eyes were wide in alarm, and the Leviathan’s grinned. “Ah!” They walked over to Bobby and threw him across the room as well, leaving a clear path straight to Alex. “Oh, this is gonna be _so_ much fun.” They tipped their head, and Alex saw black flow through their veins, reaching up towards their face.

She stepped back, ready to flee, but not willing to leave her mate. “Cas . . .” she began.

“Cas is dead.” The Leviathans approached, excitement in their eyes, and Alex stepped back again. “But we know all about you.”

The wall hit Alex’s wings, and she stopped, teeth clenched to stop her jaw from shaking. “Bite me,” she weakly challenged.

The gleam in their eyes made her immediately regret that decision. “Mm. Don’t mind if I do.” Suddenly the Leviathans stopped. They jerked once, then twice, and Alex watched in fear as they convulsed again. She felt a sudden rush of grace through the air, pulsing through the vessel, weak but unmistakably Cas. She swallowed. “Cas. _Please_.”

Then the grace was gone. Black ooze dripped down from the vessel’s hair line, and some ran down its hands, dripping on the ground below. The Leviathan’s stepped forward, but once again they jerked as if up against an invisible fence. With a snarl they finally regained control once and for all, but the vessel was already weakened beyond repair. When they spoke, their voice was cracked and ragged.“We’ll be back. For you.” Without another word they staggered away, black liquid dripping from their limbs.

Alex watched them go, eyes wide in fear, and only when they were out of sight did she let out the breath she had been holding.

“Bobby?” Dean rolled over, and the young angel finally remembered that they were there too. He staggered to his feet, and Alex shakily walked over to him. Bobby rolled over, eyes flickering open, and with Alex’s help he stood. Dean leaned against the wall. “Where’s Cas?”

“He — they went that way.” Alex pointed down the hall. “I . . . that vessel’s going to explode, Dean.”

“Come on.” Dean hurried down the hall, regaining his balance with ever step. “We got to find Sam.” He led the way down the hall, yelling his brother’s name and leaving Alex and Bobby to follow. They turned the corner, and suddenly Dean moved faster. “Sam!”

Sam was leaning against the wall, breathing heavily, eyes wide.

“Sam!” Dean put a hand on his brother’s chest, trying to shake him awake. “You hearing me?”

Sam let out a gasp, his eyes coming to focus on his brother. “Dean?”

“Whoa. Look at me.” Dean waited for his Sam’s breathing to slow down. “Hey. All right, button this up. Come on. Let’s get out of here.” Without waiting for a response he continued on back down the hall. “Come on!”

Bobby followed, but Alex waited for them to pass out of earshot before pulling Sam after them. “What the hell happened?” she asked, voice sharp with fear and worry. “You never showed.” Sam didn’t answer, still close to hyperventilating, and Alex stopped, looking up into his face. “Hallucinations?”

Sam’s eyes locked with her, wide with fear. “Lucifer.”

“Sam!” Dean’s voice stopped Alex from responding, and she ran after the Winchester. A door sat open and she stepped out into the early dawn, sky light in the east. Bobby was pointing at the black spots on the ground, and without waiting for an answer Alex tore past.

“Cas?” She ran down the hill and through the trees. “Castiel!” Something sparkled in the distance, and as Alex emerged from the tree line she slid to stop. “No.” A tall metal fence stood in front of her, the door wide open. The sign next to the door read _Public Water Supply_ , and that was all Alex saw before she was through the door. A large, expansive lake lay in front of her, broken only by a solitary figure out his waist. “Castiel!”

“Alex!” Dean and Bobby were close behind, and the angel immediately started running again. She tore down the shoreline and into the lake reaching only her knees before hands were around her waist, haulig her backwards. “Alex! Stop it! It’s too late.”

“Let me go!” Alex kicked at Dean, but he held on tight, and she could do nothing but watch as the Leviathans and Castiel disappeared from sight. “No!”

The water suddenly started spinning, a small whirlpool forming where they had disappeared. It grew larger and larger, until suddenly it stopped. Then the water turned black, stretching out further into the reservoir. Then it simply faded.

Bobby was the first to speak. “Aw hell.”

“Let me go!”

“He’s gone, Alex!”

 “Just let me go!” Alex tore herself out of Dean’s grasp, stumbling forward before stopping. She desperately searched the water for any signs of life. “No.” She staggered, falling to her knees with a painful thud. The angel’s wings shook, and she clenched her jaw to keep it from trembling.

“Dammit,” Dean finally said.

“You called it. Those . . . whatever you call ‘ems . . .”

“Leviathans,” Sam corrected. He walked over to Alex as Bobby grunted in agreement.

“Right. If they’re in the pipes, they got themselves a highway to anywhere.”

“Awesome.” Dean walked forward, and Alex watched as he walked to the water’s edge and pulled something out. She closed her eyes, listening to how the water dripped from the water-laden trench coat. “Okay. S-So he’s gone.”

“He’s not gone,” Alex snapped, glaring up at the hunter. Sam put a hand on her shoulder, but she shrugged it off. “He’s not dead, Sam. He . . . he’s gonna come back.”

“Come on.” Sam tried to help her to her feet, but Alex stubbornly refused to move. Sam stood up, and then something was by her head. Alex looked over to see Dean holding out the folded trench coat, and she took it, holding it against her chest as she stared out over the water, waiting.

There was quiet, urgent discussion behind her and then Bobby’s quiet but firm voice. “Let her be. Her goddamn mate just died, Dean. The least you can do it let her mourn in peace.”

“ ’M not mourning cause he’s not dead,” Alex grumbled, sullenly pulling the trench coat closer

“Alex?” Sam once again knelt down beside her, voice soft. “We’re going to wait by the car, okay? Take your time.”

Alex clenched her fists at his words, but didn't verbally rebuke him. She just turned her head away until the Winchester left.

 

 **S** he sat there for almost an hour, maybe more. The sun had risen above the tree line, reflecting off of the calm blue water. Alex hugged the trench coat, which had now dried substantially, staring blankly at the reservoir, patiently waiting for Castiel to reappear.

“Lovely day, isn't it?”

Alex startled, but didn’t look up. “What do you want?”

“I see that he didn’t manage to put those souls back in time. I did warn you.”

“He put the souls back. The leviathans hung on.” When Death didn’t respond the young angel finally looked up. “Why are you here?”

“I sensed some sort of tension between the two of you last night and wanted to make sure everything was alright.”

“Yeah right.” Alex rolled her eyes. “Like you care. And it’s none of your business.”

“Stand up.” When Alex didn’t move he nudged her in the leg. “I said stand up,” he repeated, and Alex decided it was best not to mess with that tone of voice.

She pulled herself to her feet, grace retreating inside her body as she felt the Horseman’s presence in the air. “It’s none of your business,” she repeated firmly. “And it doesn’t matter anymore.” She looked down at the coat in her hands. “He’s not really around anymore.”

“Both you and I know that’s not true,” Death reminded her. He held out a small bag, and Alex looked at it curiously. “French fry?”

“Why are you here?” the angel finally snapped. “Are you going to kill me or what?”

Death shook his head, unaffected by her outburst. “No. You have a full life left to live, Alex. The question is how many.” When Alex raised an eyebrow the Horseman continued. “I’m aware of the little miscommunication between the two of you originally. The one, that, as you know, led to those wings of yours.”

“Wow. What about ‘not your business’ don’t you understand? Seriously. Does _everyone_ think they can pry into my personal life—”

“Stop.” Alex fell silent, and the Horseman continued. “Now, for most of your kind I wouldn’t care, but you seemed so miserable I thought I should ask.”

“Ask what?”

“If you’re happy.” Death extracted a fry from the bag and ate it, chewing slowly. Alex rolled her shoulders back, waiting for him to finish. “Happy as an angel.”

“Why?”

“Because I can fix that.”

“No, no. Why do you _care _?” Alex studied the man through narrowed eyes. “I mean, why even come and _talk_ to me? According to you, we’re nothing by annoying little —” __

__“Protozoa. Yes. But you’re interesting ones as well. I also know the happier you are, the happier those Winchesters are, which will make my job so much easier. So I’m giving you the option. You can either stay as you are and hope you find a mate, or you can go back to being human. One has a lifespan of millenniums, the other maybe five or six decades at best.”_ _

__“You’d . . . you’d just remove my grace?”_ _

__Death didn’t seem altogether pleased by her constant questionings, but he answered. “Yes.”_ _

__“Would it hurt?”_ _

__"Are you afraid of the pain?" The Horseman stepped closer, and Alex straightened her back, shaking her head 'No.' "Good. Now. You're starting to wear on my patience, and I'm going to need an answer. I'm only making this offer once." The Horseman extended one hand, palm up. "So what will it be. Yes or no?"_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright! I'll be taking a little hiatus for a few months to write the next part, to be posted on this same story.


	22. Hello, Cruel World

**February 11th, 2012**

**Sioux Falls, South Dakota**

**A** lex stared out the frost-stained window, watching how the snowflakes drifted towards the ground. Every once and a while a gust of wind would send them scattering, leaving the house around her to howl in protest at the unrelenting gales. She pulled her thick grey blanket tighter around her, hands tightly clenched in the downy warmth, replaying yesterday’s conversation over and over again.

_“You’d . . . you’d just remove my grace?”_

_Death didn’t seem altogether pleased by her constant questionings, but he answered. “Yes.”_

_“Would it hurt?”_

_“Are you afraid of the pain?” The Horseman stepped closer, and Alex straightened her back, shaking her head ‘No.’ “Good. Now. You’re starting to wear on my patience, and I’m going to need an answer. I’m only making this offer once.” The Horseman extended one hand, palm up. “So what will it be. Yes or no?”_

_Alex stepped back, eyes narrowed in confusion. “And that’d be it. I’d be human again. Just like that?”_

_“Not quite. It would take a day or two for change to complete, but in the end you would be human.”_

Alex looked back at her black and golden wings, the feathers dull and drooping, and reluctantly dropped her blanket, curling one forward to run her fingers through the downy underfeathers. A few fell out, and she tossed them aside, a frown upon her face.

_The young angel hesitated, eyes trained on the Horseman’s hand. “What about Cas?”_

_“What about him?” Death’s long fingers tightened around the head of his cane, patience visibly wearing thin. “If you don’t make up your mind now, I’ll leave. What will it be?”_

“No.” Alex murmured the word aloud, fingers gently preening her dark feathers, feeling for the oil glands on her back so her wings would once again shine.

_“No.” Death dropped his hand, studying the angel with his dark gaze. “Interesting choice.”_

_“What?” Alex blinked as the Horseman vanished from sight, and she instinctively pulsed her grace out after him, pulling back when she felt his lingering chill. She hugged the damp trench coat tighter, tipping her head back to raise her voice after him. “What do you mean ‘interesting?’ ”_

The door opened, stirring Alex from her thoughts. Sam Winchester stood there, concern on his face. “Hey. Uh . . . are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Sam.” Alex watched how the hunter stepped forward and then flinched. She tipped her head and scooted back to lean against the far wall. “Are you alright?” She patted the bed next to her, pulling Castiel’s trench coat into her lap. “You seem a little . . . jumpy.”

“I-I’m fine. What about you? Are you doing okay?” Sam sat down beside her, eyes narrowed in concern. “You haven’t come out of your room since we came back.”

“I’m fine.” However, Alex leaned into Sam, resting her head against his shoulder. “Cas isn’t dead. I know he isn’t. I can _feel_ it, Sam. He’s out there, and he’s alive. I — I don’t know how, I don’t know where, but I just _know._ He has to be.”

Sam didn’t immediately answer, and Alex turned her face into his neck, eyes falling closed. Suddenly Sam jumped, and Alex pulled back, looking up into his face. “I should go,” he hurriedly explained. “Uh, get some sleep, okay?”

“Yeah.” Alex watched him hurry towards the door. “You too.”

 

 **A** week or so passed. For seven nights Alex barely slept, and on the eight day she finally ended up falling asleep just as the sun was climbing towards the horizon. When she woke once again it was almost 10 am, and she reluctantly rolled out of bed, longing for company. She smoothed down the oversized shirt she was wearing and stumbled downstairs to see Sam sitting up on the couch with Dean sitting in a chair in front of him.

“Hey, go a little easy,” Bobby was saying. He was standing behind the two of them, eyes flickering over to Alex when she entered. Sam looked up as well, and Alex yawned, sleepily rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand. She saw a faint blush across the Winchester’s face and he looked away, gaze dropping to the ground.

“There’s nothing easy about it, Bobby, okay?” Alex looked up at Dean’s sharp voice; he sounded pissed. “He acted like he had everything under control.”

“I get it,” Sam agreed. “Look, I — I didn’t exactly want to crack up, you know?”

“What the hell happened back there?”

“Well, it’s not just flashbacks anymore.” Sam shifted uncomfortably in his seat, eyes trained on the ground.

“Well then what?”

“It’s more like . . . I’m seeing through the cracks.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means I’m having a difficult time figuring out what is real.” Sam’s eyes flickered up to dart across the three of them before they retrained on the ground by his brother’s feet.

“Hallucinations,” Dean stated. His shoulders tensed, anger evident.

“For starters.”

“Well, _for starters_ , if you’re tripping Hell’s Bells, why would you hide that?”

“I wasn’t hiding it, Dean. I — I was just not talking about it. I mean, it seems like the three of you had enough going on as it was. Look, I just figured — try to hold onto the safety bar and ride it out, you know? But it’s getting more specific.”

“As in specifically what?”

Sam didn’t answer, shifting once again in his seat, and Alex cleared her throat. “Maybe we all should get a drink,” she suggested. “I feel like we’re all gonna need one.”

Dean didn’t listen to her. “As in _what_ , Sam?”

“Lucifer.”

Silence. Dean blinked, shocked, then looked towards the kitchen. “Yeah. I’m gonna need a drink.” He retrieved his glass and bottle of scotch from the table. He returned with two, handing one to Bobby Singer. Sam moved to the chair Dean had been sitting on, turning it so he could look up at the three of them.

“What the hell, Sam?” Dean finally snapped.

“I told you.”

“I mean, seriously, how, how you do you even argue with that?”

“I know,” Sam agreed with a resigned sigh. “It’s a problem.”

“Well, now, wait, I got it. Why would the devil holodeck a whole new life when he could just kick your ass all over the Cage?”

“Cause as he puts it, ‘you can’t torture someone who has nothing left for you to take away.” Sam glanced to his left, and Alex followed his gaze only briefly before nodding in reluctant agreement with his words. The Winchester’s flickered over to her.

“Okay, fine,” Dean continued. “But this Malibou dream mention that he, he — he makes for you to take away is this post-apocalyptic mess?”

Sam looked back to his left, an expression Alex couldn’t place on his face.

Dean followed his gaze, frowning at the empty room across from him. “Wait. Are you seeing him right now?”

Sam nodded, and Alex pushed herself off of the wall she had been leaning against. “Wait. Right now?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s he doing?”

Sam looked over to his left. “He’s . . . he’s just staring.”

“At?”

“At you.” Sam narrowed his eyes in confusion.

Something tugged at the young angel’s gut, and she crossed the room in two steps to stand in front of Sam. She reached out, placing two fingers in between his eyes. She focused on her grace, letting her instincts guide her. Her grace pushed into him, winding around his eyes and tracing it up to his brain. She felt the same feeling in her own head, and she focused on that, fusing their sight.

She opened her eyes and looked to her right.

“ _Le mohoath.”_ Lucifer sat backwards a the wooden chair in the middle of the room, a chair that had definitely not been there before. The archangel was staring directly at her. “You can see me.” His blue eyes sparkled in amusement, and his pale lips were curved upwards into a smile. “It’s been too long.”

“What did you do?”

Alex tore her gaze away from the archangel, ignoring how her grace jumped at the sight of another angel. “I f-fused our m-minds or something,” she explained lamely. “I can see what Sam sees. Or thinks he sees. A-And hears, too.” She stepped back, the back of her legs bumping into the desk. She sat down on the corner, turning her attention back to Lucifer.

Dean looked between the two of them in confusion. “You — you know he's not real, right?”

Sam looked over at Lucifer, who grinned, motioning towards Dean as a prompt to answer. Sam dropped his gaze to his lap. “He says the same thing about you.”

Bobby Singer shook his head in disbelief. “I’m going back to work,” he finally said. “I . . . I don’t know.” He left the room, and after a second’s pause Dean followed.

Sam looked over at Alex, who just shrugged. “This was your idea of helping?” he finally asked.

“What?”

“You said if the, uh, the hallucinations got bad you’d help.”

“Oh. Yeah.” Alex shifted her weight on the desk. “Um . . . this is the best I’ve got. At least I can tell what’s real and what’s not. And uh, he —”

“Is definitely not real,” both her and Lucifer said at the same time. The archangel let out a small grin, eyes flickering back to Sam. “I’d listen to her, Sammy. It’ll be that much better when it all comes tumbling down around you.”

“He’s not real,” Alex repeated with a roll of her eyes. “I can’t feel his grace.” To prove her point to herself she pulsed it out, but felt nothing where the archangel was sitting.

He, however, just laughed. “You only feel what I want you to feel,” he quipped, settling his chin onto his arms. “And I am real, _le mohoath._ I remember all of our little dreams together.” He stood up, pushing away the chair as he crossed the room to stand in front of her.

Before he could speak, Alex stood up, moving out of his way. “I’ll be upstairs,” she told Sam. “If you need anything come on up. He,” she added with a finger pointed at Lucifer’s chest, “ is not allowed.” And with that she walked away, ignoring the amused chuckle of the archangel behind her and the way his gaze followed her until she was out of sight.

 

 **W** hen she came back downstairs, Sam was sitting on the couch, surfing the internet. Lucifer sat on the chair in front of him, staring unblinking at the hunter. Sam was obviously uncomfortable, shifting under his gaze, and Alex rolled her eyes. “Knock it off,” she snapped, wings ruffling out.

Lucifer swung his head around to look at her, an eyebrow cocked and a grin on his face. “Of course, _le mohoath.”_ He, of course, didn’t, and Alex stalked into the kitchen.

Sam followed, sitting down across from Bobby. He reopened his laptop just as Lucifer moved to the chair looking into the room, a small green ball materializing in his hands. Alex propped herself up onto the counter as the archangel let out a high-pitched whistle. “Sam. Sam.” No response, and he threw the ball up. “Watch this.”

Alex held up her hand. “Throw it here,” she suggested, determined to get his attention off of the young Winchester. When he tipped his head, she added, “Unless you don’t think I’ll be able to catch it.”

She didn’t miss the roll in his eyes, even if it was only slight, and then the ball was sailing through the air. Alex held back surprise when it hit her palm, as real as everything else here felt. Almost as real. She squeezed it, letting her grace flood through it, confused when it told her that there didn’t seem to be anything there. The impatient shifting of the archangel had her tossing it back. She glanced over at Sam, a frown on her face. “You’re wearing my shirt again.”

Sam looked down at his blue and black plaid for only a second before returning his gaze to hers. “No, this is my shirt. You only wear it when you’re sulking.”

Lucifer let out an amused noise, and Alex turned to snapped, but just at that moment the front door was flung open as Dean hurried through, carrying several bags of groceries. The ball flew right in front of his face, and Alex recoiled, barely catching it in time.

Bobby looked up. “Hey there, Gunga Din, buck up.”

“So it looks like we’ve got some bad news for a change,” Sam quickly added. “Stockton, North Kansas, most of a high school swim team got mangled to death in a locker room.”

“Cop talk on the wire’s kind of garbled, saying it looks like some kind of wild animal attack. They’re saying whatever attacked them’s about the size of a linebacker.” Bobby got up and walked over to the bookshelf behind Sam.

Alex nodded in agreement with his words and tossed the ball back, not missing how Dean looked over at her in confusion. His voice was dry with resigned humor. “Having fun?”

“She’s playing catch with Lucifer,” Sam admitted, barely sparing Alex a glance. She ignored the look Dean gave her, instead sating herself by patiently waiting for the ball. “Look, Dean,” Sam finally sighed, “it’s a lead.”

“Alright, but if you think you’re going out on a hunt . . .”

“No, I know. I’m not. But you are. Look, Bobby’s running the hub, I’m — I’m 5150’d, which leaves only you and Alex to follow this thing up.”

“Sam, you’re in the middle of a psychotic break —”

Dean cut off when Alex raised her hand to catch the ball. He reached out and batted her hand away, and the ball was knocked from her grasp. She watched as it bounced away, disappearing behind a gigantic stack of books. “Nice,” she snapped. “You lost the ball. How’m I suppose to get that out?”

“It’s not _real,”_ Dean snapped, exasperation flooding his voice.

Alex blinked, having momentarily forgotten that small piece of information. Lucifer just shrugged innocently.

“It’s a couple hour’s drive, Dean, and it could be a Leviathan thing.” Sam drew his brother’s attention back to him, and Alex jumped off of the counter, peering inside the brown paper bag Dean had carried in.

“Nah.” She saw Dean shake his head out of the corner of her eye. “If you think I’m leaving you here alone . . .”

“Hey. What am I, chopped brains on toast?” Bobby turned to look at Dean, a frown on his face. “I can eyeball the kid. Go. Work off some of these nerves on something useful. And take Feathers there with you. Might be some use against them.”

“Okay . . .” Alex shrugged. “I mean, it’s not like Leviathans eat angels for breakfast or anything.”

“Huh?”

“Oh yeah. The reason those things got locked up in the first place was cause they snacked on, uh, Ariel was it?” Lucifer grunted in agreement, and Alex nodded. “Ariel,” she confirmed. “Archangel.”

“Okay, any idea how to kill them then?”

“Uh, machete. Take of their heads, but don’t let them reattach. Keep the head separate keeps them dead. And, uh, something burns them. A chemical. Clorox? Botox? I don’t know. Ends in -x.” She stopped to see all three staring at her. “What?”

“And you never thought to _tell_ us this?”

“I . . . you, you never asked. It never came up before.” Alex squinted, hurt and honestly confused at their anger. “S-Sorry.” She glanced over at Lucifer, was was just staring, and she shrugged.

“Fine.” Dean nodded. “I’ll go. Alex, with me.”

“You’re not leaving me, are you?” Lucifer rested his forearms on the back of the chair, leaning forward to lay his chin on them, a small pout on his face. “You just got here.”

Alex spared him a glance, and Dean cleared his throat. “What’s he doing?”

“He, uh, he doesn’t want me to go.” Alex brushed past the hunter. “I’ll go pack my things; give me five minutes.”

“Yeah. Sounds good.”

 

**Stockton, Kansas**

**S** even hours later Alex found herself getting out of the Impala’s driver’s seat. She watched as Dean made his way down passed the motel doors, looking for theirs, and she grabbed both of their bags before following, making sure to lock the car behind her. As she made her way across the parking lot she spun the key ring around her fingers. The ring only held four keys, one to the Impala, one to Bobby’s, and two to storage lockers scattered throughout the country; what was unique, however, was the silver rifle bullet. There was a story behind it, something about a werewolf case back in 1995, but Alex had never really asked.

“Hey.” Dean held open the door as she walked in, taking his bag from her shoulder. “Keys?”

Alex tossed him the key ring before dropping her stuff onto the nearest bed. She sat down beside her bag, waiting as Dean retrieved the white and green cooler from the Impala’s back seat.

When he returned he placed it onto the small table. “Thirsty?” he inquired, pulling out a beer for himself. “Think we might still have a Coke in here somewhere.” When Alex grunted indifferently he pulled out the can and tossed it to her before pulling up a chair. “Alright, spill.”

“Dean, can we not?”

“You, what, did some sort of Vulcan mind meld and now you’re seeing the devil too, huh?”

“Yeah, more or less.” Alex kicked off her converse and pulled her feet up under her. “It’s fine, Dean. It’s probably better this way anyways—”

“Better how?” Dean’s voice grew sharp, and Alex looked away. “Huh?”

“I _know_ him, okay? I, I spent months with him in — in my dreams, and I know him better than any one of you guys. A-And, unlike Sam, Lucifer kinda likes me. Tolerates me. Whatever. So if I can do anything to distract him from Sam, I’m helping.” Alex risked looking up into the Winchester’s eyes. “I can tell what’s real and what’s not. It feels different, you know? And I sure as hell know this is better than letting Sam go through with it alone.”

“Yeah, except now I have two of you riding the crazy train. And what the hell was that about the Leviathans? Were you just not gonna tell us cause we ‘didn’t ask?’ ”

“I was going to tell you!” Alex retorted. “Hell, I did tell you. It just never came up before, okay?”

“Never came up? You mean never came up like how we spent the past week hunting theses sons of bitches? You mean like that?”

“Dean, I was barely _around_ for that week. I was in my room like twenty-four seven! I —” Alex shook her head, the wall of emotions inside breaking down. “Cas is _gone_ , Dean. I don’t know where he is, and he’s not answering any of my prayers. I . . . I’m not okay.” Tears stung at her eyes, but Alex did her best to blink them away. “I need . . . I _need_ a mate, Dean. Someone who’s there for me, someone I can talk to. I can’t — I can’t do this on my own anymore —”

“Hey hey hey.” Dean cut her off, and the young angel looked up tearfully as the hunter extended an arm outwards. “Come ‘ere.” Alex crossed the distance and sat down in Dean’s lap, face buried in his neck. She ignored how the hunter shifted in confusion, surprised at the sudden change of events, and something in the back of Alex’s mind flickered, telling her that the hunter had been moving to point at the chair next to him. She, however, didn’t move, and Dean’s hand came to rest on her back. “You’re okay,” he finally soothed. “We’re gonna get through this, alright? You’re not alone. You got me, and Bobby, a-and Sam, okay? Anything you need, we’re right here.” He patted her back once more before gently nudging her off.

Alex reluctantly stood, glancing towards the shower door. “I’m gonna take a shower,” she mumbled, hiding her tearstained face. Before Dean could answer she hurried away.

 

 **“C** ollins. FBI.” Alex flashed the man her badge before following Dean Winchester into the Stockton High School gymnasium. The police man grunted, pointing down the hall to the men’s locker room. Yellow police tape was strung all around, and the two hunters ducked through a doorway before coming to a halt. “Holy hell.” Alex took in the room in front of her; the locker were tipped over, and blood was everywhere.

“Special Agent Anderson. Ian.” Dean showed the officer at the door his badge before nodding back at Alex. “That’s Special Agent Collins.”

“Yeah, okay. Our point cop’s out on a donut.” A man looked up from where he was kneeling beside the fallen lockers. Tweezers, glasses, plastic bags — this man was obviously forensics. “Forensics,” the man confirmed, pointing at himself. “I can show you the layout. And step lightly.” He motioned to the blood-spattered ground. “We got a whole bunch of NC17 shiznickel right over there.”

“Right.” Dean looked down at the ground as the man turned back to his work. “Ugh.” He carefully moved along the wall, Alex following close behind.

“I see what they mean by something the size of a linebacker doing this,” Alex muttered. “This place is a mess.”

“Hey.” Dean stopped by the shower room, pointing to a blood smear on the wall, and, right above it, a trail of black ooze. “Dammit.”

“Leviathans,” Alex confirmed, pulling her wings in tight. She pushed her grace out, feeling for any sign of the creatures, but there was nothing. “I, uh — we should get out of here.”

“Yeah. You go take a sweep of the area, see if you can pick up anything on your angel radar. I’ll wait for the detective. Get an idea of what’s going on.”

“Yeah, okay.” Her feathers ruffled uncomfortably, and Alex hurried away.

 

 **“O** kay, so it’s really Leviathans.” Dean tightened his grip on the Impala’s steering wheel, shooting Alex a quick glance. “It’s been almost a week. Why turn up now?”

Alex shrugged, wings flicking in confusion. “Hard to say. They’re smart, Dean. Way smarter than anything we’ve ever hunted. They probably have a plan, and whatever that plan is it isn’t good.” She looked up at the Winchester, a frown across her face. “I just — I don’t remember much, Dean. I just know they’re bad. Worse-than-the-apocalypse bad.” Dean didn’t immediately say anything, and Alex shifted nervously in her spot. “I didn’t — I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?”

“I . . . I should’ve done more. I-If I had just pushed him _harder_ he wouldn’t have taken the souls. The Leviathans would still be in Purgatory, and Lucifer . . .” Alex rested her forehead against the cold window, another sigh leaving her lips.

Dean waited another few seconds before speaking. “It’s not your fault. Hell, Death warned me about Cas too. I could have stopped it as much as the next.”

Alex shook her head. “You’re wrong. I — you guys didn’t know about Cas and Crowley. You didn’t have enough time. I . . . Dean, I knew from the beginning. Ever since Crowley caught up to me two years ago I knew. I didn’t do anything. I thought I had it all under control.”

Dean didn’t answer, and Alex pulled her wings in closer, a quick look out of the corner of her eye telling her that the man was tense, obviously displeased. However, he said nothing, instead turning up the music.

 

 **T** he sky was dark before he turned the stereo back down. Alex sat up from where she was sprawled out in the backseat just in time to see the hunter pull out his phone. He dialed a number, and whoever was on the other line answered quickly. “Well, we are positive for ick,” Dean promised. “Same kind of stuff that came out of Cas, and, uh, two of the swim kids are missing. They stole their parent’s car.” He paused, listening, and Alex leaned closer, making out the soft cadence of Sam’s voice. It was too quiet to make out distinct words, but whatever was said had Dean shaking his head. “I don’t know. It makes sense, right? Anyways, uh, state trooper’s got surveillance cam on the kids about six hours old of them gassing up south of the Dakota line, so I’m headed back your way. We’ll just track them from Bobby’s.” Sam responded, and it sounded like he was moving to hang up, but Dean quickly added, “Hey! How are you doing?” A second’s pause. “Okay, well, hang in there, alright?” Dean hung up, and Alex leaned over the seat.

“How’s he doing?”

“Says he’s fine. Hard to say.”

 

**Sioux Falls, South Dakota**

**T** hey arrived at the Singer Salvage Yard two hours later. The only lights came from the kitchen, and a quick glance around showed both Bobby’s truck and Alex’s Marquis to be missing. “Dean . . .” Alex got out of the car and took three steps towards the front door. “My car’s gone.”

“Gone?” Suddenly Dean broke into a run. “Shit.” He threw open the front door. “Sam? Sammy? Sam!” He stopped, looking around. “Oh crap.”

Alex slid to a stop behind him, grace pushing through the house. “He’s not here,” she confirmed. “I — do you think Lucifer . . .”

Dean reached into his pocket and fished out his phone, muttering curses under his breath. “I turned on the GPS on his phone,” he finally said. “At least we can find him.”

“If he didn’t turn it off.”  
 “Dude’s head’s so scrambled I don’t think he’d notice if I changed his contacts.” Dean tugged her back out the door and into the Impala. The second she had slid into her seat at phone was tossed past her, and she ungracefully caught it as it bounced into her lap. “Let’s go.”

 

 **“R** ight.” Alex pointed out the window, finger bumping into the cold glass.

Dean turned the car accordingly, a frown darkening his countenance at what lay ahead. “Oh, this can’t be good.” He pulled the Impala up alongside a dark warehouse. Alex grunted in agreement, pushing her grace out into the building. Dean glanced over at her. “He in there?”

“Yeah. He’s there.” Alex threw open the car door and hurried past the Marquis to the warehouse door, Dean close on her heels. She threw open the heavy steel door and stepped inside. “Sam? Sam!”

“Oh look.” Dean Winchester stood beside a panicked Sam, his gaze focused over Alex’s shoulder. “Another me.” He grinned as Sam swung his gun away from them.

“Sam, what are you doing?” Dean brushed past Alex, confusion written all over his face. Sam spun back around, Taurus pointed straight at Dean, who jumped back, hands in the air. “Whoa whoa whoa!”

Alex leapt forward, positioning herself in front of Dean, wings flared out and back straight, covering as much of him as possible. “Sam,” she warned, holding up her hands as well, “calm down. It’s us.” She flicked her grace over towards the second Dean, but felt nothing there. “That Dean — he’s not real.”

“ ‘That’ Dean?”

Sam’s eyes were wide with fear and panic. “I was with you, Dean!” he yelled, voice breaking.

“Okay, well here I am.” Dean tried to nudge Alex out of the way, but she refused, gaze focused on the Dean standing next to Sam. He had stopped grinning, and as she watched he morphed into Lucifer.

“No. No, I don’t, I . . .” Sam looked over at Lucifer, and then at Dean. “I can’t know that for sure,” he pleaded. “You understand me?”

“Okay, now we’re gonna have to start small.”

“I-I don’t remember driving here.” Sam’s arm lowered as he stared at the ground in confusion.

His breathing increased, and Alex stepped forward, hands outstretched. She could feel his heart racing in his chest, but before she could speak Lucifer cut her off. “Well that’s because I drove. You thought.” He nodded towards Alex, one hand raised to his mouth in a mock whisper. “Sam’s very suggestible.”

Sam spun around and fired his weapon, the bullet bouncing off the metal pipes. Alex’s wings rose in frustration, feathers puffing out as she backpedalled to protect Dean. The hunter flinched as well, hands going up in defense. “Whoa whoa whoa,” he protested. “Sam! This discussion does not require a weapon’s discharge!”

Sam lowered his gun, chest rising and falling with each panicked breath. Dean slowly slipped around Alex, approaching his younger brother. Lucifer appeared beside Alex, chuckling quietly. She flared her wings and pointedly ignored him.

“Look at me.” Dean held out his hands, palms up nonthreateningly. “Come on. You don’t know what’s real? Look man, I’ve been to hell, okay? I know a thing or two about torture. Enough to know that it feels different than the pain of this — this regular, stupid, crappy . . . _this.”_

“No. No.” Sam shook his head. “How can you know that for sure?”

“Let me see your hand.” Dean reached for Sam, who held up his right hand. Dean knocked it away. “No, no. The — the gimp hand. Let me see it.”

Sam held out his left hand, the white bandage still wrapped tightly around the palm, and Lucifer suddenly appeared behind him, arms crossed in amusement. “Smell you, Florence Nightingale,” he joked; however, Alex saw something darker flicker in his blue eyes.

Sam looked over at him and Dean grabbed the hand. “Hey.” He held it up,. “This is real. Not a year ago, not in hell, now. I was with you when you cut it, I sewed it up. Look!” He pressed his thumb into Sam’s palm, squeezing hard. Sam winced, inhaling sharply at the pain. Instinctively his right hand flew up, and Dean reached out, his other hand locking around the barrel of Sam’s gun.

Lucifer appeared right behind Dean, flickering twice, but seemingly unfazed. “We’ve done a lot more with pain,” he reminded.

“This is different,” Dean insisted. “Right? Than the crap that’s been tearing at your walnut? I’m different. Right?”

Sam roughly pulled his hand away from Dean, leaving his gun in Dean’s hand and pulling his up to his chest. He stared down at his palm and Alex crept closer. “Yeah,” Sam gasped out. “I — I think so.”

“You sure about that, bunk buddy?”

Sam stared at Lucifer, and Dean shifted. “Sam? Sam!”

Sam pushed his thumb against his palm, gasping at the pain. Lucifer flickered once, then twice. He blinked. “Doesn’t mean anything.”

“Hey.” Dean turned Sam’s attention back to him. “I’m your flesh-and-blood brother, okay? I’m the only one who can legitimately kick your ass in real time. You got away. We got you _out,_ Sammy.”

“Sammy,” Lucifer warned. “Sam.” Sam dug his thumb into his palm, and Alex watched Lucifer flicker violently. He stepped forward, eyes dark. “Sammy, I’m the only one who can —” Lucifer disappeared, and Alex couldn’t help the strange feeling of disappointment that shot straight through her. She shook her wings out to try and distract herself from the embarrassment that followed. 

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.” Sam nodded in agreement with whatever Dean had just said — Alex had missed it. Sam nodded again, this time more firmly, startling when the ringing of his phone echoed throughout the warehouse. He quickly jumped to answer it, and Alex lowered her wings. “Bobby. Hey.” The hunter looked confused. “Leviathan. Here?” He listened for another two seconds before nodding and hanging up. “Bobby’s got a live one.” 

“Where’d he go anyways?” Alex followed Dean and Sam back towards the car. “I thought he was with you.” 

“Sheriff Mils called about something maybe eating folks down at Sioux Falls General? Bobby went to check it out.” Sam slid into the front seat, hesitating when Alex didn’t immediately follow. “What?” 

“Keys for my car?” Alex jerked a thumb back towards the Marquis. “I’d like to take it back, thank you very much.” Sam dug them out of her pocket, and Alex ducked down to look past Sam at Dean. “I’ll meet you guys up there, okay? Thanks.” She took the key ring from Sam and hurried over to her car. The Impala peeled out of the dirt parking lot, and with a small sigh and Alex turned the car over and followed.

 

 **“N** o.” Alex stumbled out of the car. Acrid smoke burned her nostrils as she ran forward, eyes never leaving the charred shell of her home. The walls were still standing but the roof was gone, smoke rising up from the embers that lay within. “No.” The angel’s throat closed with grief and fear and her legs shook. “Bobby.” Suddenly she spun around. “Bobby!” she yelled, panic rising in her chest. She saw the Impala parked a few feet away; thanks to a red light Sam and Dean had arrived far before Alex. “Dean! Sam!”

“Alex!”

That was Dean. Alex tore towards the rows of cars, stumbling only once as the shock wore off. “Dean!” She slid to a stop, wings pulled close in fear.

“We meet again.” A man stood there, eyes dark, with the faintest hint of amusement buried deep within. The face Alex didn’t recognize, but her grace told her that what stood before her was ancient, a creature of terror and blood: Leviathan. Her feet carried her a step back as the leviathan stepped forward, throwing its head back to reveal a wormlike face with a mouth of jagged fangs. Then the creature just disappeared from her sight.

Alex stared blankly at the rusted, yellow car that now lay in her gaze before following its path up to the old electromagnetic crane high above her head. “W-What?”

“Sam?” Dean’s voice was laced with pain, and Alex pulled herself out of her shock long enough to tear her gaze away from the scene in front of her. She circled around the car, carefully avoiding the black puddle of ooze, all that now remained of the leviathan. There she found Sam, unconscious, and Dean, who was pulling himself towards his brother with his hands. “Sam?” he repeated.

Alex knelt down beside Dean, a hand on his shoulder. “What —” She cut herself off, swallowing to steady her voice. “What happened?”

“I-I don’t know. Sammy! Come on now.” He grabbed his brother by the shirt, trying to shake him awake. “I’m the one with a broken leg, y-you got to carry me. Sam!”

“Dean.” Alex took his wrists, trying to get him to calm down. “Stop. We need to get you to a hospital. Now.”

“No. Just — just do your angel thing, okay?”

“I can’t heal a broken leg, Dean!” Alex’s legs didn’t stop shaking, and she sat down on the dirt beside the Winchesters. “I — I can barely heal a paper cut. I don’t know _how.”_

Dean reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He dialed 911. “Y-Yeah. I, I need an ambulance. Singer Salvage Yard, uh, Sioux Falls. Hurry.” Alex stood up and Dean reached out, fingers tightening around her wrist. “Stay.”

“I have to find Bobby,” Alex pleaded, trying to pull away. “Please. Dean.”

Dean let her go, and Alex ran away. She circled around to the front of the house, hands trembling as she pushed open the smoke-stained door. “B-Bobby?” Her voice caught in her throat at the sight before her. Debris lay everywhere, and everything was blackened. She carefully made her way into the study, gaze focusing on the old oak desk, broken in half from a heavy timber from the ceiling above. The wooden floors were covered completely in a layer of ash, the only remnants of all of Bobby’s hard work.

The young angel hurried down the rickety stairs to the house’s basement, hoping to find the old hunter safe in the stone basement. The ceiling had collapsed to the right, and Alex circled under the stairs, throwing open the panic room door, untouched by the fire. “Bobby?” Nothing. Sirens screamed in the distance, and the angel reluctantly returned upstairs.

She made it to the front door before turning, eyes flitting up the fire-eaten staircase. After only a second’s pause she made her way up them. The floor groaned and creaked with every footfall, and the young angel stepped lightly until she found herself standing outside the door to her room. She slowly pushed the door open and felt her heart drop into her stomach. The bed was nothing more than a metal frame and a mess of springs, and the doors of her wardrobe were on the ground. She peered inside, salvaging what she could. One pair of jeans, two t-shirts that were still wearable. In the corner sat her backpack, miraculously untouched by the flames. She fell to her knees and pulled it open to see the contents inside; her journals lay intact, as well as several other of possessions that she not yet unpacked from the last road trip with the Winchesters.

She stood up and crossed the room to stand by where the window had once been. The night sky was broken by the red and blue lights of the ambulances across the yard, and Alex could see the paramedics taking care of the Winchesters. She pulled her wings in close, turning her head away. They would be safe. Her attention instead focused on what lay on the charred nightstand. She reached out, fingers delicately closing around what remained of her necklace. The string had burned away, but the pendants were only slightly blackened with ash. The young girl raised the silver angel’s wing to her lips, eyes closing in relief.

 

 **L** ittle else could be scavenged. Bobby didn’t answer his phone, but Alex found no evidence of the hunter among the ruins. As the sun rose above the horizon, Alex returned to her small pile of items beside the Impala. It was pitiful at best — a few of Bobby’s mugs, guns from the panic room, a machete or two. She knelt down beside a small metal tackle box, opening it for the fifth time that night. She had found it in the hunter’s closest in his room, tucked behind the large chest. The angel pulled out a small polaroid, smiling at what it held. It was Sam and Dean, no doubt, but long before Alex had met them. The rest of the box’s contents were the same. Pictures of the Winchesters, of the Heywards, of Bobby and other hunters. One of Bobby and Rumsfeld, Bobby’s rottweiler that had been killed by Meg long before Alex had arrived. She dropped the picture back into the box, watching as it settled next to a photo of Bobby and his wife, both smiling, standing next to the Singer Salvage Yard sign. With a sigh, she closed the box and latched it.

“Is that all?”

Alex spun around to see Bobby Singer standing by the Marquis. The angel jumped to her feet, crossing the distance in two steps and wrapping her arms tightly around the old hunter. “Thought you were dead,” she finally got out.

“Yeah, well, I ain’t.” Bobby stepped away and approached the pile Alex had made. “Anything else in there?”

“Nothing else that I saw. You . . . you can take a second look.” Alex followed him over, running a hand over her hair. “I . . . it was leviathans. They did this.”

“I know.” The hunter fell silent for several long seconds. “Where’s Sam and Dean?”

“I — I don’t know. Ambulance took them away. Dean broke his leg, Sam . . . Sam was unconscious. I don’t know. Probably Sioux Falls General.” She frowned at Bobby’s reaction. “Why? Is that bad?”

“That place is crawling with leviathans.”

“Shit. Seriously?”

“Yeah.” Bobby glanced towards the hull of his house, once more falling quiet.

Alex ran a hand down her face, grief for her friend forcing the breath from her lungs. “We can come back here,” she promised. “Once we get Sam and Dean. I . . . I’m sure there’s still things we can find.”

Bobby ignored her. “Get that stuff in the car.” He motioned towards the Impala. “Here’s what we’re gonna do.”


	23. The Girl Next Door

**A** lex followed Bobby Singer down the brightly lit hallways of Sioux Falls General Hospital. “But Sheriff Mills is alright?” she reaffirmed, casting a glance down the hall. “You got her out?”

“Yeah. Sent her to recover back home.” Bobby turned the corner, pausing when they distinctly heard a thud followed by a groan. He pushed open the nearest door. “You okay?”

Alex followed him inside to see Dean Winchester, laying on the ground. He was wearing a hospital gown, and his right leg was in a thick cast. Astonishment danced in his green eyes as he stared up at the two of them. “Bobby,” he breathed out, “you’re alive.”

“Course I’m alive,” the hunter snorted. “Why are you on the floor?”

“They gave me morphine. A lot.” Dean grimaced as he pulled himself back up into a sitting position. Bobby stepped forward and helped the hunter up so he could sit on the edge of the bed. “Hey, look, a monster broke me leg,” Dean mumbled as he got up. “Oh. Wait . . .” He looked up in confusion. “The house. We thought you were dead.”

“Well, I ain’t. Not yet. But we got to run. This place ain’t safe.” He looked around the room. “Where’s Sam?”

“Uh . . . head scan, I think.”

“Meet me at the ambulance dock, stat. We’ll find Sam.” Bobby turned to go.

“Wait, what?” Dean stopped him. “Bobby, I’m a gimp.”

In response, the hunter handed him the pair of crutches that were leaning by the door. “Here.” He moved back toward the door, but Alex stopped him with a hand. “What?”

“I’ll go find Sam. You help Dean into the ambulance.” She saw Bobby about to protest, and she held up a hand. “He’s not gonna move that fast doped up on morphine. I’ll find Sam, wheel him into the ambulance bay, you get Dean out of here.”

“This place is crawling with Leviathan. Chances are they’ll notice you long before they recognize me.” Bobby tried to push his way past her, but Alex held fast. “Fine,” he finally relented. “Just hurry up.”

Alex nodded and ran down the hall. She glanced upwards at the signs, following the arrow that was labeled “CAT SCAN.” On a second thought she ducked into the staff lounge and pulled on a white lab coat that lay across a folding chair.

It took several twists and turns, but eventually Alex came upon two doctors wheeling a stretcher down the hall. Alex hurried forward to intercept them, reaching for the patient’s chart. “Yup, this is him,” she affirmed, glancing into Sam’s face. He still seemed unconscious, and she grabbed the steel bedrails, pulling him away before the doctor’s could even protest.

“Wait. This man’s suppose to get a scan.”

“Change of plans. Family requested we ship him to County.” Alex pushed Sam away, grunting at the effort it took to get the wheeled bed started. Before she could be asked any more questions, she pushed the Winchester back down the way she had come.

It wasn’t hard to get him to the ambulance bay, but once there she paused, unsure what to do now. “Bobby?” Alex looked around, confused as to why the two hunters weren’t there already. “Dean?”

The side door opened, and Alex jumped, wings flaring out defensively to protect Sam. She immediately relaxed, however, upon recognizing them. “About time,” she muttered as Bobby pulled open the doors on the back of the ambulance.

Bobby just grunted. “Help me get him in there,” he instructed, and together they lifted the stretcher. The legs folded up, and they rolled him into the back just as Dean climbed into the passenger seat.

The hospital door flew open as two doctors hurried through. Alex spun around, grace pushing out and immediately pulling back in. “Leviathan,” she hissed, jumping up into the ambulance. Bobby was already in the driver’s seat, and the vehicle purred to life. The two creatures gave chase, and Alex’s wings flared out, feathers puffed out in anger. She reached out, pulling the doors closed as the ambulance drove away.

Satisfied that they had gotten away, Alex crawled past Sam to peer into the cab. “No where to?”

“Whitefish, Montana.” Bobby turned the ambulance onto the main road. “Rufus has an old cabin up that ways. Safest place I can think of.”

“Should we swing by your place?” the angel persisted. “I can grab the Impala and some things. We’re going to need a change of clothes, Bobby. And we can’t take this ambulance very far. They’ll find us.”

The hunter grunted in reluctant agreement. “Fine. It’ll have to be quick.”

 

 **S** ixteen long hours later, Alex pulled the Marquis onto a winding dirt road. Bobby and the Impala were already up ahead, with both Winchesters safely inside. The angel had filled the backseat of the Marquis with what little she had scavenged the day before and had followed close behind.

Up ahead lay a small wooden cabin, well hidden among the trees. Bobby was already helping Sam inside, who seemed to be awake, at least for the most part. Alex threw the car into park and got out, circling around to the trunk to grab the duffle bags containing their clothes.

“Hey.” She nodded to Sam as she followed them in. Dean was stretched out on worn couch, his right leg propped up under two pillows. “How’s the leg?” she asked as she dropped his bag next to him.

Dean just grunted, pulling his bag onto his lap. He dug through it and frowned. “Hey. Sammy. Do you have any sweatpants?”

“I think I have his pair.” Alex tossed Sam his bag before digging through hers. She pulled out a pair of large black sweats and tossed them to the eldest Winchester. “Knock yourself out.” With that, she dropped her bag and returned outside.

 

**Whitefish, Montana**

**March 14th, 2012**

**A** full month passed. The four of them stayed in the cabin with the small color television. Sam was back on his feet, and Dean was still in his cast, although he seemed set on getting it off soon. Alex had been doing what she could, using her grace to try and speed the healing process along, but only time would tell if it was to work. Right now the Winchester was still sprawled out on the couch, completely focused on the tv in front of him.

The young angel rolled her eyes. He and Bobby had become enraptured by a Spanish soap opera. _Hasta que el Dinero nos Separe_. Or something like that. Alex hadn’t found it’s premise to be interesting in the least, so she and Sam kept their distance. Currently they both were sitting at the rickety, old, wooden table, Sam reading a book, and Alex on Sam’s laptop — hers had been destroyed in the fire.

The door opened, and Alex looked up to see Bobby enter, carrying a large bag of groceries. Dean tore his gaze away from the screen as well. “Dude . . . Ricardo.”

Bobby stopped by Dean to look over at the tv, where a woman was crying over a man’s body; Alex presumed it to be Ricardo’s. “What happened?”

“ _Suicidio.”_

 _“Adiós, esé._ ” Both hunters seemed some genuinely moved by the fictional character’s death, and Alex just rolled her eyes.

“What’d you get us?” she asked, drawing Bobby’s attention to over her. She motioned towards the grocery bag he held for emphasis.

“Nothing for you.” Bobby set the bag down on the table, and Alex sat up and peered into it, frowning in disappointment at what lay inside.

“So how is it out there?” Sam asked while Alex pulled out a large, leather-bound book. She dropped in on the table in frustration, letting out a satisfied huff at the thud it made.

“Weird with a side order of bloody.” Bobby walked over to the kitchen counter and poured himself the remainder of the pot of coffee. “Talked to a few hunters. They’re running into the same kind of thing that set up shop in the hospital.”

“Yeah, and don’t forget tried to kill us at your place,” Dean added sourly. Bobby nodded and sat down at the table next to Alex.

“Who puts books in grocery bags?” Alex muttered as he did so, slumping back down into her chair.

She was ignored. “Well, census is they’re, um, they’re like shapeshifters only a lot more into eating folks. And nothing can kill ‘em.” Bobby nodded in Alex’s direction. “I passed on the info about keeping their heads separate. We’ll see if that works.” The angel just grunted in response.

“Anything else?”

“Well, they bleed black goo.”

“Like that stuff that came out of Cas.” Sam realized, nodded in ernest agreement with himself.

Alex, on the other hand, was less than impressed by the hunter’s connection. “Wow. Good job, Sam. Ten points to Ravenclaw.” She looked up at Bobby. “That makes you Hufflepuff, fyi.”

Bobby made a face, but Dean spoke before he could verbally respond. “What about those chompers that you and the sheriff saw at the hospital? They still making spleenburgers?”

“Yeah, made some calls. The doctor never showed back up to work. Ditto some nurse and an administrator.”

“You never left, Sam.” Alex looked up at the sudden voice, blinking in confusion. Sam had put his book down, staring off into the distance, and the angel’s wings curled forward.

“So they could be in any hospital in America,” Dean was saying, grunting as Bobby voiced his agreement. Alex paid them no attention, still staring at Sam.

The voice returned, faint but definitely recognizable. “You’re still in the Cage . . . with me.”

Alex leaned forward. “Sam.” She reached out, shaking the hunter back into the real world. “Sam. Hey.”

“What do you think?” Dean looked over this brother, a frown darkening his face at what he saw. “Sammy? Sammy?” He turned the best he could in his position. “Sam!”

“Sam . . .” The whispering came again, pushing down on the young angel, who’s wings instinctively pulled in tight.

“Hey, ground control! Sam!”

The voice was gone, and Sam blinked in confusion. He looked over at Dean. “Yeah. What?” His right hand went to his left palm, thumb fitting over the healed scar. “I — I’m right here.”

“You okay?”

“I’m fine.”

There was a long pause, and then Dean grunted in disbelief before turning back to his show. Bobby, however, just nodded shortly. “Good.” He turned back to Dean, continuing on their previous conversation. “Well, every last bit of info I had burned down, so . . .”

“What about this place? Did Rufus leave anything? Did you check the basement?”

Bobby shook his head. “C-rations and dust,” he explained. “I don’t think he’d been here for years. So, I gotta round up my old library.”

“I thought you said most of those books were one-of-a-kind,” Sam protested, just as confused as his brother.

Alex cast an amused glance up at Bobby. “Cute, isn’t he?”

Bobby grunted in agreement. “Yeah, they’re rare alright. That’s why I stashed copies all over the place.”

“Okay, good. Um . . .” Dean tipped his head back to look at Sam. “Two legs. We’re fresh out of grub. Wanna make a run?” He held up the Impala’s keys.

Sam looked confused for only a second before nodding. “Sure. Yeah.”

“Why don’t you take Feathers here with you,” Bobby suggested. “Maybe you noticed, but she gets snarky when she’s hungry.”

Alex snorted in amusement, but didn’t deny it. So she just nodded, standing up as well. She moved towards the door, stopping only when Dean cleared his throat, grabbing Sam’s attention as he tossed him the Impala’s keys. “Be careful with her, would ya? Oh, and Sam?”

“Yeah.”

“Pie.”

“Obviously.” Sam moved past Alex out of the cabin, and she grabbed her jacket before following, sliding into the front seat beside Sam. “Ready?”

The young angel shrugged. “You well enough to drive? I can, I mean, if you want.”

The younger Winchester shook his head before turning the engine over. “I’m fine. Seriously.” He glanced over at Alex before pulling the Impala down the long dirt road. “You, uh, you heard that too. The, uh, voice . . .”

“Yup. Every word.” Alex frowned. “You said Lucifer was gone, dude. What the hell? And why haven’t I been seeing him?”

“He was. I swear. I, uh, he’s back.” Sam turned the car onto the main road, accelerating quicker than Alex would have liked. “He just . . . doesn’t show up when you’re around, I guess.” He sighed. “I can tell the difference now. Between what’s real and what’s him. I’m fine.”

“As long as you know.” She sighed, pulling her legs up onto the seat and leaning against the door, forehead on the cool glass. “Just . . . don’t talk to him, okay? The last thing we need is him getting any sort of control over you. If he gets annoying and you can’t scare him off, let me do all the talking.”

“You sure that’s better?”

“I don’t know. It shouldn’t affect you cause all I did was route what you see and hear into my mind. And if somehow it causes him to get into my head . . .” The angel shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. I’ve dealt with him before.”

A long pause ensued, and Alex watched the trees fly by. She reached up to scratch her neck, pausing when her fingers brushed against the black cord of her necklace. She reached into her shirt and pulled out the pendant, brushing her thumb over the feathers on the metal wing.

“You doing okay?” Sam finally asked, casting a sidelong glance her way.

“Don’t worry about me. I’m not the one with the devil in my head.”

“No, no, I know. I mean, it’s just — you lost your mate and your house within, what, ten days of each other? And then you had to deal with Lucifer, which I still don’t get why did that.”

The young angel studied her shoes, the pain she had so carefully tucked away threatening to descend upon her. “He’s not that bad,” she half-heartedly defended, choosing to focus the conversation on the devil instead. “I had him in my head for over a year, and . . . I don’t know. I figured if I could see him I could kinda distract him, you know? Seeing that he likes me. Or at least tolerates me. Something like that.” She shrugged, stopping her rant there. “So . . . we cool?”

“Did we ever stop being, uh, cool?”

The young angel smiled. “Nah.”

 

 **“C** hips.” Alex pushed her way into the gas station with a dramatic flourish before making a beeline towards the far end of the story. “Dude. We need more chips.” She motioned for Sam to follow, and, when he did, she pulled a large bag of corn chips from the shelf and threw them at the Winchester, expecting him to catch it. He didn’t, and they hit his chest with a crunch before falling at his feet.

“Yeah. Thanks. Real mature.” Sam stooped to pick up the bag while the young angel continued down the isle. “You know, you can’t live on corn chips and cheese forever.”

“Just you watch.” Alex pulled a jar of nacho cheese off of the self and dropped it into the basket. “Oh! And don’t forget the pie.”

“Yeah, I won’t forget the pie. Just, just go see if you can find something for dinner. Make sure it has protein!” he yelled as she hurried away. Alex gave a small wave over her shoulder to show that she heard, face hidden so he couldn’t see the roll of her eyes.

She grabbed several cans of soup before making her way back towards the Winchester. He had added his own share of groceries; a loaf of white bread, bananas, a jar of crunchy peanut butter, and something Alex could only identify as a leafy green vegetable. “Got everything?” she asked, ignoring the strange substance the best she could. “Pie?”

Sam hesitated. “They had cake,” he offered, pointing towards the bottom of the basket. Seeing her face, he added, “They’re like the same thing, right?”

The angel shrugged. “It’s your funeral.” She followed the hunter over to the counter, gaze drifting to the array of candy and chocolate that lay in front of her.

The clerk began scanning their items, and after a few seconds of silence broken only by the beeping of the scanner, asked, “Paper too?”

“Uh, yeah.” Sam handed over the newspaper he had picked up. “Yeah, please.” He pulled out his wallet from his back pocket before holding out one of his credit cards. “Here.”

 

 **T** hey were back at the cabin within twenty minutes. Alex let Sam carry in the groceries, plopping down on the couch beside Dean’s leg. “How you doing?” she asked, rapping on the cast twice for emphasis.

“I’m fine. Gonna go stir crazy if I don’t get it off soon.” Dean reached behind him as Sam set one of the grocery bags down on the end table. “Ah, thank you.”

“Yep.” Sam set the other down at the table and began digging through it. He looked up when Dean turned the tv off. “Where’s Bobby? He take off?”

“Yeah. Hey, Sam.” Dean turned the best that he could to look up at his brother. “How you doing?”

Sam blinked. “Fine.”

A small pause. “I mean, you still, you know . . .”

“Yeah, no, I, I know what you mean.” Sam awkwardly nodded, halfheartedly glancing over his shoulder. “Yeah. I—I’m still seeing crap that isn’t real. But yeah, I’m fine.” He turned so he was facing Dean. “I can tell the difference.”

“Things getting better?”

“Honestly? Uh . . . I don’t know. I just know I’m managing it so . . . so don’t worry.” Sam’s hands came together, thumb pressing down on his left palm, and Alex glanced behind her, positive Sam was trying to drive Lucifer away. However, the archangel was nowhere in sight, leaving her shrugging.

Sam’s answer seemed to content Dean for the moment, as he turned his attention to the plastic bag sitting between his legs. He looked inside and immediately frowned, hands going in to remove the plastic box that held a slice of cake. “Where’s the pie?” he queried, looking over at his brother.

Sam motioned towards the box in his hands. “I got cake. Close enough, right?” He picked up the loaf of bread and walked over to the fridge, leaving Dean in confusion.

He looked over at Alex, eyebrows scrunched up in confusion and indignity, and the angel shook her head. “I just picked out the soup,” she promised. “Don’t look at me.”

“Cake’s nothing like pie,” the Winchester insisted. “How — how are they even similar?”

Alex shook her head. “I don’t know, man.” She stood up. “I’m gonna take a nap. Need anything?” She glanced towards the table. “Happy pills? How’s the leg feeling?”

“I’m fine.” Dean halfheartedly tossed the cake onto the coffee table. “Just — go take a nap.”

“Yeah. That’s the plan.” Alex watched as Sam put the leafy green vegetable into the fridge. “Need any help with anything?” she inquired, leaning her weight against the back of the couch. “Otherwise . . .”

“I’m good.” Sam shrugged. “Go.”

 

 **W** hen Alex awoke the sun was setting. There was rustling in the other room, and the angel rolled off of the old mattress and onto the wooden floor. She got to her feet and crept out of the room, bare feet silent. Dean was on the couch, fast asleep, and Sam was walking towards the door, his backpack slung over his shoulder, the Impala’s keys dangling from his fingertips.

Alex grabbed her own backpack that was laying behind the couch and ran after him, slipping out the rickety door with barely a glance shot backwards at Dean. “Sam!” she hissed, hurrying after the youngest Winchester. "Where are you going?”

Sam spun around, confusion flickering across his face. “What?”

“You. Going. Where?” Alex pointed the keys in the his hand.

“I found a case,” Sam cast a guilt-ridden glance towards the door. “Don’t tell Dean, okay? I — he still doesn’t trust me.”

“Mm. Okay. I won’t tell him. Cause I’m going with you.” Alex crossed her arms, daring him to protest.

Like predicted, the Winchester’s lips twitched downwards into a frown. “Alex . . .”

“You’re a loose cannon, Sam. Dean’s not gonna be happy when he wakes up, and I for one think it’ll go over a lot better if I”m with you. Besides. What if Lucifer turns up? I can tell the difference. You can’t. Now come on. We’re wasting time.” When Sam still looked unconvinced, she sighed, opting for a different strategy. “Listen, man. I . . . I just need to get out of here, okay? I, I mean between Cas a-and losing the one place I could call home . . . I just _need_ a distraction.”

Sam nodded. “Okay,” he relented. “Get your stuff — _don’t_ wake Dean.”

Alex motioned to her face. “Angel remember? Besides.” She slung her backpack over to her other shoulder. “I have enough stuff in here to last a few days.” She pointed towards the Marquis. “We gonna take my car, or are we going to borrow Dean’s?”

“It’s my car too,” the younger Winchester insisted, knowing how fruitless his defense was before the words even left his mouth.

Alex however, just shrugged. “If that’s how it’s gonna be.” She threw her bag into the backseat and threw open the passenger side door. “Come on, Sammy boy. Let’s go.”

Sam rolled his eyes, unamused by the nickname, but did as she suggested.

 

 **“S** o . . . how long is this drive gonna take?” Alex looked over at Sam. They had been in the car only an hour or so, but already the angel was bored.

The Winchester shrugged. “Well, uh, we’re going to Bozeman, Montana. That’s, uh, maybe five, six hours?” He motioned to the empty road ahead of them, dotted with reflective orange cones. “Good thing it’s night, otherwise it’d probably be another two or so hours with traffic.”

The young angel groaned, rubbing her eyes. “Great. Really. That’s wonderful.” She yawned. “You know, just a thought, we uh, we should invest in one of those airport memberships things, huh? Rack up some free flights. I’d be faster than driving everywhere.”

Sam let out an amused noise. “Yeah. Sure. Try telling Dean that. And last time I checked, you can’t take guns on a plane.”

“Dude.” Alex sat up straight, an idea sparking in her mind. “We should buy a plane. Like, one of those two person private ones? I bet Bobby could figure out how to fly one easy. Come on.” She poked the Winchester in the shoulder. “I bet he’d teach me. I mean, how hard can flying a plane be? I am —”

“—an angel after all.” There was an echo to her voice, a deep, familiar echo, and Alex turned her head. Lucifer was reclined in the backseat, one hand brought up to his mouth, teeth teasing his thumbnail. “Is that your excuse for everything?”

Alex snorted. “Wow. Look who decided to turn up. Thought you were gone, _enay._ ”

“ _Iaidenay_ ,” the Lucifer corrected, slightly put out. _Archangel._

“Does it look like I give a damn?” the female angel countered, crossing her arms. “Tomato tomahto. Same difference.”

Sam let out a loud breath. “Are you really going to argue about that with him?” he asked, turning his head to look over at Alex.

She shrugged. “If he doesn’t like he can leave.”

The archangel uncrossed his arms. “I thought you’d be glad to see me,” he pouted, leaning forward. “I mean, it’s been a whole month with out Castiel. I’d think you’d be getting pretty desperate —”

“I’m managing,” Alex shot back. She took a deep breath, calming herself down. “Where the hell have you been? Just, uh, just curious. If you’ve been around for the whole month . . .”

The archangel shrugged, settling back against the leather seats. “Here and there. Things down under have been, well, _hell_ , so I’ve been in Sam’s noggin.”

“But _now_ you decide to show yourself?”

The archangel didn’t respond, and Alex turned in her seat, resting her feet next to Sam’s thigh and leaning her head against the window. “You look weird,” she finally said. “Without your wings and all. Less intimidating.”

Once again the archangel shrugged. “You see what Sam sees,” he quipped. “And no human has ever seen my wings.”

Sam rolled his eyes, adjusting his grip on the steering wheel. “Alex. Just — just ignore him.”

 

**Bozeman, Montana**

**T** hey checked into a motel early the next morning, and the minute Alex stepped inside she sprawled out over the nearest bed. “So what’s this case we’re checking out?” she finally asked, watching as Sam dropped his own bag on the other bed.

“It’s, uh, here.” Sam pulled something out of his backpack and tossed it onto her chest. It was a newspaper, and upon further examination Alex found that the headlines read “ICE PICK KILLER STRIKES AGAIN.”

“Uh, okay.” Alex skimmed the article and tossed it back. “Interesting, but doesn’t really sound like our kind of thing, you know?”

“I worked a similar case about thirteen years ago, down in Lincoln, Nebraska.” Sam sat down on the bed, hands in his lap. “Well, actually Dad and Dean worked it. I spent my time at the library. But same M.O. Uh, people like drug dealers, stalkers. The homeless. Wound behind the left ear, and parts of the brain were missing. The pituitary gland. Turns out it was a kitsune.”

“O…kay. And any particular reason we’re doing this without Dean’s knowledge?”

“I . . . I think it might be the same one we were hunting back in ’98. Or, at least one of them.”

Alex sat up, now fully interested. “One of them?” she repeated. “Did they get away, or . . .”

“I let her go.” Sam nodded, chest rising and falling as he took a deep breath. “I thought she was different. She, she killed her mom to save my life. If it’s her — I need to know why she’s started killing. But Dean . . .”

“Dean’d kill first, ask questions later,” Alex finished. “Believe me, I, uh, I know.” She pulled her legs up under her, resting her chin in the palm of her hands. “Okay. I’ll give her the benefit of the doubt. Where do we start?”

 

 **“Y** ou guys thinking this is another one — so called ‘ice-pick killer’?” Sam steadily held the officer’s gaze, hands buried in the pockets of his suit pants. Alex’s gaze flickered past them down the hall to where the morgue lay at the end of the hall.

The police officer nodded. “Same M.O.,” he agreed before adding, “Can’t say I’m too broken up about this one.”

“Who was he?” the young angel queried, raising her eyebrows to prompt an answer then the man’s eyes darted over her.

He shrugged his broad shoulders . “Ian Keller. Busted him half a dozen times. Real mensch.”

“So what’s the deal?” Sam turned in front of Officer Wheaton, holding out a hand to top him . “Um, killer comes into town, ganks a lowlife, and moves on?”

“Looks like.”

“Stabs ‘em all exactly the same, right? Behind the ear?” Sam tapped his head right behind his left ear for emphasis.

“Yeah. No explaining a psycho.” Officer Wheaton blinked in confusion. “We left that detail out of the paper, though. How’d you know.”

“I worked a case like that a few years back.”

“Think it’s related?” The man glanced down at Alex, an unspoken question in his eyes.

She shook her head. “I wasn’t there, sorry. I’ve only been employed for the past ten months.” She jerked her head up towards Sam. “Ask him.”

Sam cleared his throat. “You find anything weird about the brains?”

“Like what?”

“Like . . . missing?”

“Huh. Good question for the coroner.”

“Right. Thanks.” Sam’s phone beeped twice, and he pulled it out of his pocket as Officer Wheaton walked way. He frowned, then pocketed it once again.  
 “Dean?” Alex guessed. In response her own phone buzzed, but Sam reached out to stop her. “Dude,” she warned. “We have to talk to him at some point. He’s probably pissed enough as it is.”

“He’ll be fine,” Sam insisted. “Please. I’m hoping we’ll have this finished in the next day or so. Just give me twenty four hours.”

The young angel let out a long sigh. “Fine. Twenty four hours. Then I’m calling Dean and telling him you haven’t jumped the tracks, okay?” When Sam nodded, they made their way through the double doors into the morgue.

“You must be the FBI agents.” A pudgy, balding man hurried over to them, pale eyes lighting up. “Maxwell Schuyler.”

Sam nodded. “Agent Cliff. This is my partner Agent Rowe.” He held out a hand, and the coroner shook it with a grin. “Would you, uh, — can we see the body?”

“Sure, sure. Right this way.” He led them over to the wall of refrigeration units and pulled open one of the bottom drawers. A sheet-draped body was rolled out, and the coroner pulled back the cloth to reveal head and shoulders of a middle-aged man. “We don’t get too many murders out this way,” he told them as he straightened up. “Much less a serial.”

“So what’d you find?”

“It’s what we _didn’t_ find. Let me show you.” The coroner tipped the corpse’s head to one side, revealing a large bloody hole behind the left ear. “Big chuck of midbrain went missing.”

Sam made an interested noise. “Midbrain, like pituitary gland?”

“Actually their pituitaries were clear gone.” Schuyler turned the head back to its original position, looking up at the Winchester. “How’d you know that?”

“Educated guess.”

Alex’s phone rang, and she pulled it out of her pocket. It was Dean again. “Excuse me.” She dipped her head in thanks towards the coroner before heading towards the door. She heard Sam excuse himself as well as she pushed her way out, and then a chest was in front of her. She wheeled back, surprised at how fast the Winchester had moved. “This is getting ridiculous,” she snapped. “I’m calling Dean. I’m telling him we’re okay.” She put hand on Sam’s chest and pushed him back. “Listen. I won’t tell him where we are. I won’t tell him what we’re doing. But I’m going to tell him you’re still sane.” Without waiting for an answer, she slid past Sam and made her way down the hall. Once she was out of sight she answered the phone. “Dean.”

“Where the hell have you been?”

Alex rolled her eyes, unintimidated by his outburst. “We’re hunting. You were sleeping, you were in a _cast_ , we left you behind. Yes, we took the Impala. No, Sam isn’t off his rocker. Yes, he’s seeing Lucifer. No, it’s not gonna fall for one of his stupid tricks; he can tell the difference. Anything I missed?”

“Where the fuck are you?”

“Oi. First off, language. I’m in a police station, Dean. Keep your voice down. And secondly, none of your goddamn business. Me and Sam’ve got this one. Stay on the couch, we’ll bring you a consolation prize, okay?”

“Too late. I’m coming to get you.” There was a rustle of newspaper before, “Bozeman, Montana, am I right? I’ll be there tonight.”

“What? Dean — no! What about that gimp leg of yours? Don’t you even _dare_ try driving with that.” Alex pushed her way out of the building and made her way over to the car. “Where’d you even get a car, huh?” She sucked in a breath of realization. “If you fucking wreck my car —”

“Ditto, sweetheart.” Dean sounded just as pissed as she felt. “And the cast is off. I took it off.”

“Dean!” Alex sat down on the Impala’s hood, and her feathers ruffled out in displeasure. “You’ve had that on for a _month_. You know how long that’s suppose to stay on? Ninety days. That’s three months, dude. Even with whatever mojo I’ve been using —”

“I'm fine, I’m fine. A little limp, little pain. I’ll live. Listen. Gotta go. See you soon.”

“Dean? Dean —” Dean hung up, and Alex shoved her phone into her pocket with a frown. She crossed her arms petulantly, lips twisting into a deep frown.

“Well?” Sam crossed the parking lot to stand in front of her, vaguely motioning with his hand to get across his point. “How’d he take it?”

“He’s on his way here,” the angel snapped tersely. “I don’t know how, man. I mean, we both turned off our GPS before we left the state, but he’s coming here.” With a glance at her watch, she added, “Given that construction we went through, I’d say got until midnight, give or take.”

To her surprise, Sam didn’t seem perturbed. “That’s fine. I think I know where they’re gonna strike next.” He unlocked the Impala and got into the driver’s seat, leaving Alex to follow his lead. “We’ll be done before Dean even gets here.”

“He’s not happy about you taking his car either,” Alex added. “I’m telling you we should have took the Marquis. Honest to God I think he’s more pissed about the car than the case.”

Sam turned the Impala over, and the engine purred to life. “I like this car better,” he admitted. “I mean, no offense, but your car kinda smells.”

Alex settled into her seat, crossing her arms. “Not my fault I have to transfer raw beef in the trunk,” she muttered. “At least I’ve never had to stick a dead body in the backseat.”

 

 **T** he rest of the day passed rather quickly. Sam had put together a crude relationship chart over a large map of Bozeman, Montana, that they had picked up at a local gas station. It didn’t take him long, however, before he was circling a spot on the map with his red sharpie. “There.”

Alex sat up from where she had been staring at the ceiling at the sound of his voice. “There what?” she asked, shifting so she was propped up on the pillows. “Done already?”

“It’s here,” Sam confirmed. “Just like the last time. Always in a straight line.” He pointed towards several red X’s along a highway. “Secluded spots or parks following a major highway.” He snapped the cap onto his marker and tossed it towards Alex.

It bounced off of her stomach, and the young angel instinctively flinched. She swung her feet over the side of the bed, sitting up. “Alright,” she agreed. “Sounds good. How do we kill it? Er, her?”

“Stab a kitsune in the heart. But we’re not killing her. Not yet.” Sam crossed the room to stand in front of her. “Talk first.”

Alex shrugged. “Yeah, sure. Whatever, man.” She rubbed her eyes, letting out a long yawn. “Dude, doing nothing really takes it out of me. I need a nap.”

“You know, you sleep a lot.” Sam walked over to the fridge and pulled out a can of beer before sitting down on the kitchen table.

“I recall you saying that that was my best feature,” Alex quipped back, eyes glimmering with humor. “When was that? Valentine’s Day, 2010? Sounds about right.”

Sam snorted in amusement, turning his attention to his drink as he tucked a loose strand of his hair behind his ear. He hadn't changed out of his suit, but had taken off his jacket, leaving him in his white oxford, sleeves rolled up to the elbows, and a tie loosened only slightly from his neck. “Yeah, well, a lot’s changed since then.”

“Aw. You two are cute together.” Lucifer appeared right beside Alex, grinning as he looked between the two of them. “Want to know wh —”

Sam dug his thumb into his palm, and the devil flickered and was gone before he could finish his sentence. Alex bit her lip, blushing, and Sam shifted awkwardly, clearing his throat. “So, uh, do angels sleep anyways?” he finally asked, voice more brusque than before. “I, I mean I know you do, I think . . .”

“Not really. I don’t really ‘sleep’ either.” Alex ran a hand through her hair and crossed her legs. “I mean, all angels rest. I mean, God does it — seventh day and all, so of course we do as well. Um . . . we don’t sleep so much as the way humans do? Like there’s no REM cycle. It’s . . .” She paused, thinking back. “As Cas put it, it’s kinda just a different state of consciousness.”

“So you don’t dream?” When Alex shook her head Sam took another sip of his drink. “But you and Lucifer . . .”

“Yeah, that wasn’t so much dreaming as much as some sort of Vulcan mind-melding-projection thing.” Alex awkwardly scratched the back of her neck. “It’s complicated.” Before Sam could answer she stood up. “Um . . . dinner? It’s almost six.”

“Yeah.” Sam hastily stood up as well. “Yeah. Uh, sorry about —”

“Forget it. I’ve dealt with him before. Uh, I’ll get my shoes.”

“I’m going to change.” Sam hurried away, and Alex let out a long breath, shoulders dropping as the tension in the room dispersed. She stood still for only a second before reluctantly searching for her shoes.

 

 **“S** o we’re just gonna sit here till she shows up.” Alex slouched in the front seat of the Impala, glancing at her wristwatch for the umpteenth time in the past five minutes. “Great plan, Sammy.”

“She’s gonna be here,” Sam promised. “Three vics in three days? It’ll be tonight.” He fell into silence, face hardening as he slipped back into his thoughts, and Alex grunted.

“What did she do to you?” she asked after a minute or two of silence. “She must have done something,” she defended when Sam turned his head. “I mean, normally talking first isn’t our type of thing. The two of you must have some sort of history. What’s her name?”

Sam sighed. “Her name’s Amy. I met her in Lincoln. I, uh, I didn’t know what she was at first, but I . . .”

He hesitated, and Alex smirked. “Thought she was cute?” she joked, snorting in amusement when Sam nodded. After another second of silence she prompted, “Go on.”

“A couple of guys were harassing her outside of the library, and I beat them up. Long story short, I ended up in her house and she killed her mom to save me.” The Winchester let out a long breath. “She didn’t want to be a killer, Pip. That wasn’t her. If she’s doing this, it’s for a reason.”

 

 **I** t wasn’t long before the Winchester got out of the car. Alex blinked, displaced and confused at the movement, but wordlessly followed, shaking out her wings as she scanned the parking lot. A silver sedan was parked at the far end, and a lithe shape was moving away from it. “That her?” she hissed, feet carrying her after Sam.

If the Winchester gave an answer, she didn’t hear it. The woman ahead of them disappeared into the trees, and Sam motioned her forward. He pointed off towards the right and Alex nodded, silently slipping into the trees to trail their target from the right. The woman in front of them moved with intent, yet didn’t seem aware of the two hunters behind her. It was only when the crack of a breaking twig broke the silence that she momentarily paused. Alex pressed her back into the trunk of a large sycamore, wings pulled in tight so they wouldn’t be seen. The quiet exhale and the crunch of dirt told her their target was moving once again.

Alex peered out from behind the trees, making eye contact with Sam only a few feet away. She raised a fist to her head, pinky finger raised and thumb pressed against her forehead, signing the word for idiot with a roll of her eyes.

Sam flipped her off before moving again, leaving Alex to hurry after. She quickly passed him, her smaller body — undoubtably mixed with some angelic power — leaving her footsteps silent no matter where they fell. She reached the top of the ridge first, pausing as a hand found its way to her shoulder. “Stay here.” Sam slipped past her toward the woman that was lingering at the edge of the trees.

He stopped behind her, and the woman spun around, eyes wide. “Hi, Amy.”

“Sam.” The woman’s voice cracked in surprise. “Wow.”

“Yeah.”

“I — I just never thought I’d see you again.” Her eyes were still wide as she looked the hunter up and down. “What are you doing here?”

“I think you know.” Sam kept the knife pressed against Amy’s stomach, but his shoulders were beginning to relax.

“You got tall.” Amy’s gaze slid past Sam to rest on Alex. “Is — is she yours?” She blinked when Alex let her wings flare out, flapping them twice to free the feathers that were uncomfortably stuck together. “Oh.”

“Small talk? Really?” Sam shifted on his feet as a woman and her dog ran by along the path, taking no notice of them. However, it was enough to spur the Winchester into motion. “Let’s take a walk.”

“Sam —”

“ _Walk_.” Sam roughly shoved Amy towards Alex, nudging her father into the woods. He grabbed her left wrist and held his knife in his right, making sure to keep the silver blade firmly pressed into her diaphragm. “So, same pattern, same victim pool — just like when we were kids.”

“No, I — it’s not what — look, I’m not —” The woman took a shaky breath. “I’ve had the same job for the past six years. I — I have a house, two cats, a mortgage. I have a normal life.”

“You call _this_ normal?”

“Sam. What I _am_ , I’m managing.”

Alex let out an amused noise, using her foot to push herself off of the tree she had been leaning against, arms crossed. She shook her wings out again, an eyebrow raised as the woman flinched back into Sam. “You spiked three guys this week,” she reminded, eyes flashing. “Not sure how that’s ‘managing.’ ”

“No, you don’t understand. It’s not like that! I—I’m not just some murderer. I had to—”

The melodic ding of Alex’s phone had the kitsune stopping, and Alex reached into her pocket with a muttered curse. “It’s Dean.” Before Sam could tell her what exactly to do, she stalked away, bringing the phone up to her ear. “This better be good.”

“Where the hell are you?”

“Really? Can’t this wait? You’re distracting me from a very interesting reunion here. Find a motel, get a room, okay? We’ll meet up with you in the morning. For God’s sake, Dean, get some sleep. It’s past midnight. How long did that drive take you?”

“Six hours. And yeah, traffic was a bitch.” There was shuffling on the other end of the line. “Tell me where you are. I know you’re hunting a kitsune. I can be there in ten minutes —”

“ _No_. Dean, me and Sam — we’ve got this, okay? He’s a hunter, I’m angel.” Dean started to protest, but she cut him off, adding, “ _Lucifer_ is under control. I —” Alex cut off at the sound of a struggle and spun around to see Sam on the ground. Amy was staring at Alex, who stared back, head held high and wings flat against her back. Then Amy turned and ran, leaving Alex blink. “I’m gonna call you back.” She hung up and shoved her phone into her pocket before bounding down the ridge.

She ran after the kitsune, slowly gaining ground. The angel willed herself faster, and her wings flared out, flapping once, and suddenly Alex shot forward. She swerved to one side, narrowly avoiding running face first into a large pine, but ended up stumbling over a tree root and hit the ground rolling.

Alex pulled herself to her feet, a litany of curses falling from her lips. She felt the familiar sting of torn skin on her forehead, and she raised the back of her hand to brush the blood away before freezing in confusion.

Amy stood in front of her, just as shocked at the young angel. The kitsune recovered first, her feet taking her back two steps. “Please let me go,” she begged. “I’m done killing, I swear.”

Alex let her angel blade fall into her hands. “Give me one good reason.”

Amy’s hands went up to defend herself. “I wasn’t doing it for me,” she swore. “Please. I — I need to get home.”

“Alex!” Sam’s voice had Alex looking around, and when she turned back to the ground in front of her Amy was gone. The angel let out a frustrated huff, flicking her grace out. She felt Sam on the ground a few yards west, and Amy was moving north quickly. Another call of her name had her hurrying back to her friend.

“You okay?” she asked, squatting down beside Sam, who had managed to lean against the trunk of an old tree. She put a hand on his head and used her thumb to hold open his eyelid as she peered into his eyes, looking for any sign of concussion.

“I’m fine.” Sam knocked her hand away. “What happened to you?”

“Not her.” Alex reached up to feel the drying blood on her head. The cut had already closed thanks to her grace, and the angel shrugged. “I hit a tree. Good news is my wings work. Probably won’t be trying that again in the middle of the woods.” She stood up, holding out a hand to help Sam up.

He stood up on his own. “Where’d she go?”

“Don’t know. Took off. What’s that?” Alex pointed to the hunter’s closed fist. He opened it to reveal a small receipt before quickly closing his fingers back around it. “Oh.”

“Let’s get back to the car.” Sam picked up his knife, and the two of them silently made their way back to the Impala. “I can get her address off of this,” he eventually explained, emerging from the trees and moving towards the Impala. “Give me half an hour.”

Alex stopped by the car as the hunter unlocked the car. “We probably shouldn’t go back to the motel,” she slowly said. “Dean’s in town, and he’s pretty pissed.”

“We’ll deal with him later.”

 

 **S** am pulled the Impala up alongside the curb, gaze flitting past Alex and coming to rest on the house across the street. “This is it.” He grabbed his knife off of the dashboard and got out of the car. Alex did the same, her own weapon slipping down into her hand. She made it to the middle of the street before Sam caught up, rounding about and holding on a hand to stop her. “I’ll do this,” he promised. “Alone.”

Alex’s wings twitched in displeasure. “You’re gonna have to kill her,” she warned. “You know that right? Or else she better had a damn good explanation.”

Sam nodded. “I know. I’ll do what’s best.” He motioned back towards the car. “Just — just wait here.”

Alex nodded, and reluctantly returned to the car. Sam hurried across the street and disappear into the house as Alex closed the car door.

 

 **H** e emerged only ten minutes later, but even in that short amount of time the sun had warmed the night sky, the soft grey light a telltale sign of dawn. “How’d it go?”

Sam slid into the passenger seat, confusion in his eyes to see the angel in his spot. “Fine,” he finally said. “Everything’s good.”

“You didn’t —”

“No. I didn’t need to.” When Alex held out her hand, he asked, “So, are you driving or something?”

“Yeah, I will be, once you give me the keys.” Alex wiggled her fingers for emphasis. “Come on, man. You’ve been up all night. I’m still wide awake. Give ‘em here.”

Sam did, and Alex smiled as the engine purred to life. She pulled the Impala out onto the street before asking, “So why didn’t you kill her?”

“She wasn’t feeding. Well, at least not on fresh brains. She’s a mortician; feeds on the dead. But . . . she has a son . . . and he was dying, and the only way to save him was —”

“Fresh meat,” Alex finished. “Yeah, I get it.” She shrugged, casting a sidelong glance towards Sam. “As long as she’s done.” Before Sam could answer she pulled the Impala to a stop at a light. “Left or right?”

“Left.”

 

 **A** lex pulled the Impala into the motel parking lot. Sam got out and she turned off the ignition, pocketing the keys before following him towards their room. They silently walked down the row of doors before Sam stopped at theirs. He pulled the key, unlocked the door, and stepped inside. Then he was knocked backwards with a loud grunt.

Alex rushed forward, grace pulsing out to feel whatever lay in the room, and stopped in front of the door. A fist flew out, catching her on the cheek and forcing her head to one side. Alex winced, but remained upright, while her assailant cursed in pain, cradling his fist. “Dean?” Alex looked down at Sam, who was laying among the ferns, before turning her head back to the eldest Winchester. “What?”

Sam pulled himself to his feet, hand coming up to gently feel his jaw. “Dean?” he repeated, pushing his way past Alex.

Dean stepped back to let them inside. “New rule. You steal my baby, you get punched.” He added with a scowl at Alex, “Except you. Maybe I’ll come at you with a baseball bat.”

Alex snorted, not the least bit affected by the hunter’s anger, although her jaw did sting a bit. However, she contented herself by snapping, “Like to see you try.”

Sam pulled a can of beer out of the fridge and held it against his left cheek as Dean continued. “What the hell were you thinking, running off like that? I mean, for all I know, Satan could have been calling your plays!”

“He wasn’t.” Alex rolled her eyes. “Dude, I’ve been right here, and the devil’s only shown up like, what, twice? We’re _managing_.”

“Yeah. Somehow that doesn’t reassure me.”

“Dean, look, I’m fine.” Sam sat down on the table in front of his brother.

“Yeah, cause you’re the poster boy for mental health.” Dean rounded on Sam, fury dancing in his eyes like flames. “You have any idea the kind of horror shows I had going on in my head?”

“Dean, I left you a note. There was a job in town.”

“A kitsune. Yeah. Yeah, no, I know. And you ignored Bobby and I’s calls why exactly?” Alex opened her mouth to answer, but Dean cut her off, crossing the room to stare down at her. “Stay out of this!”

“Because I wanted to take care of it.” Sam’s voice was dull with defeat, giving into his brother’s rage. “And I did. I took care of it.”

“Really?"

“Yes.”

“Where’s the body?” Dean wandered back over to his brother, hands held out in a questioning gesture.

Sam blinked, gaze sliding past his brother to rest on Alex, who had taken her position on the bed. “There is no body,” he finally admitted.

“Why not?”

“Because I let her go.”

“You what? Why?”

Sam heaved a sigh. “She saved my life, Dean.” When his brother looked skeptical, he expounded, “Remember that kitsune you and Dad hunted back when we were kids?” He set the beer can down and stood up, shrugging off his jacket.

“Yeah. In ’98. You ganked her.”

“I didn’t. Amy did. Her daughter. She killed her own mother to save me, Dean. She’s different. She didn’t want to be like that.” He sat down in one of the wooden chairs, waiting for his brother to respond.

Dean leaned against the foot of the bed frame for a second, processing what he had been told. “You never told me that.”

“I never told _anyone_. I mean, can you imagine what Dad would have done?”

“So you saw the article in the paper and you just bolted?”

“It was my mess.”

“And you call letting her go cleaning it up?” Dean shook his head, and Alex got off the bed, deciding to make a break for the car before things got too heated and more punches flew. She stopped, however, when Dean held out a hand. “Sit down,” he snapped, pointing back towards the bed. “I haven’t even started with you yet. What the hell were you even thinking?

“Oh, I’m sorry, maybe I should have left Sam go off on his own.” Alex’s wings flared out in frustration, and she crossed her arms.

“What you should have done is woken me up!” Dean mimicked her, arms folded across his chest. “You see what he sees, right? That means you’re seeing the same fucked up hallucinations.”

“Except I can tell they’re fake! Dean, I’m an angel. I can tell no one’s really there, or that the ball isn’t really in my hands or whatever! I’m _helping_.”

“Helping my ass.”

Sam shook his head. “Dean —”

“Shut up. You just let a _monster_ go.” His voice dropped back to its normal volume. “She’s dropping bodies, man . . . Which means we have to drop her, no matter how many merit badges she racked up when she was a kid. I’m sorry, but it’s that simple.”

“Since when is anything in our lives simple?”

Dean shook his head. “Look, man, I get it, okay? You meet a girl, you feel that spark — there’s nothing better. But this freak?” Sam dropped the beer can on the table and grabbed his jacket, stalking towards the door. Dean held out his hand to intercept him. “I didn’t mean —”

“Yeah, you did.” Sam harshly cut him off. “Look, I see the way you look at me, Dean, like I’m a grenade and you’re waiting for me to go off.”

“Sam —”

“I’m not going off. Look, I might be a freak, but that’s not the same as being dangerous.”

“I didn’t say —”

“It’s okay. Save it. I’ve spent a lot of my life trying to be normal, but come on. I’m not normal. Look at all the crap I’ve done, look at me now. I’m a Grade A freak.” At that, Alex opened her mouth to protest, but Sam wasn’t done. “But I’m managing it. And so is Amy.”

“Is she?” Dean challenged. “How?”

“She works at a damn funeral home so she doesn’t have to kill anyone, Dean. She’s figured out how to deal.”

“Okay, well, then explain the bodies.”

“She’s done. Her friggin’ kid was dying, Dean. Put you or me in her position, we’d probably do the same thing. Look, you don’t trust her. That’s fine. Trust me. Dean. Please.”

For several long seconds, the room was silent. Then Dean let out a breath. “Okay.”

Sam blinked in surprise at his brother’s consent. “Seriously?”

“Got to start sometime, right?” Dean let out a loud breath, turning to survey the room. “Pack up,” he finally instructed. “Bobby’s waiting.” He dug a key ring out of his pocket and tossed it onto the bed beside Alex. “You’ll probably want that.”

“Yeah, uh, thanks.” Alex grabbed her backpack from the other side of the bed, which had been packed sometime last night. “Should I just go, or, uh . . .”

“Yeah. We’ll call you if anything comes up.”

“Okay.” Alex slung her bag over her shoulder, glancing around the room one last time. “Uh, see you back at the cabin.”

The Winchesters muttered out a response, and Alex hurried outside to find her Marquis at the far end of the parking lot. She quickly unlocked the door and threw her backpack onto the seat next to her, pausing as she closed the door. The angel inhaled deeply before sliding the key into the ignition. “You don’t smell,” she muttered, running a comforting hand over the dashboard. The engine purred to life in response, and Alex pulled her out onto the street and down the winding road.


	24. Defending Your Life

**“I** might have a case if you guys are looking.” Bobby kicked the cabin door closed behind him, tossing a newspaper at Dean’s head. The hunter knocked it away before it could hit his face, where it landed on the ground with a flutter.

Alex looked up from where she was seated on the kitchen counter, her back resting comfortably against the side of the fridge. “What’d you find?”

“Dearborn, Michigan.” Bobby pointed to the newspaper in Dean’s hand. “A guy was crushed to death on the tenth floor. No one heard or saw anything. And get your ass off of the counter. It’s unsanitary.”

Alex stuck out her tongue in retaliation. “You’re one to talk about sanitary,” she muttered before reluctantly getting down when the older hunter’s frown deepened.

Dean nodded thoughtfully as he skimmed the article. “Alright,” he admitted, “sounds like it could be our kind of thing.” He got up from the couch with a grunt and a limp. “Alex, you in?”

“Sure.We should wait for Sam to get back though. He’ll want to go.” Before Dean could even begin to protest, she added, “Trust me. It’s better to have him along than on his own.”

Dean just grunted. “Then tell him to hurry up. I want to get there by tomorrow afternoon.”

 

**Dearborn, Michigan**

**E** xactly twenty five hours later, like predicted, Dean pulled the Impala up alongside the curb of an apartment complex. Alex sat up straight, hand going up to check the collar of her shirt before straightening it one last time.

“Sam.” Lucifer’s voice rang through the car as the hunter threw open the door, but he didn’t materialize. Alex got out, eyes flickering over to Sam’s hands; his thumb was pressed against his palm once again, willing the devil away.

“Feels wonky,” Dean muttered, and Alex blinked in surprise.

Sam stuttered out, “What?” He looked over at Alex, who shrugged, not sure what Dean meant either.

“Working a normal job.” Dean circled around the car to stand next to his brother, staring past the line of yellow tape.

“Bobby’ll call if anything flares up on the Leviathan front,” Sam promised. “In the meantime, you know you want to work this case, Dean. Cope on the wire sounded dumbfounded.” He led the way towards the crime scene, and Dean and Alex fell in step beside him.

Alex grunted in agreement, remembering Sam’s earlier call to the Dearborn police. “Definitely sounds interesting,” she added.  

“No arguments. It’s kinda nice, you know? We’re due for a little cut and dry, and, uh . . .” He trailed off when the cop at the tape stopped them. Dean reached into his jacket pocket for his ID, and Alex followed suit, showing her fake credentials as the officer lifted up the tape. The three of them ducked their heads and they passed underneath. “You seem good,” Dean finished, straightening back up. He tucked his ID back into his suit coat.

“I am,” Sam agreed. “For me. By the way . . .” He slowed at the apartment complex door, holding out a hand so Dean stopped as well. “Thank you.”

“For?”

“Amy.” Dean seemed to shift nervously, but Sam continued right on. “I know you didn’t want to let her go, but it was the right thing to do. So thanks.” And with that, he turned and opened the door.

“No problem.” Dean hesitated only a second before following. An officer directed them down the hall and into an elevator. Once the door had closed, Dean glanced down at the young angel. “And how are you doing? With, uh, the devil thing?”

Alex shrugged, shoving her hands casually into her pocket. “I’m fine.” She paused, thinking she could stop there, but after a second decided to continue. “I mean, I don’t really have a mate right now, so I guess being around him . . . it helps.”

She could feel Dean about to press her, but the elevator dinged, and the doors opened. The Winchester straightened his back and led the way out; however, the look he gave Alex as he stepped across the threshold held a promise of the conversation’s continuation.

An officer let them under the yellow tape that sectioned off the end of the hall after they once again showed their credentials, stopped in front of an old, balding man. He was writing in his notepad, and looked up after a second or two. “Welcome to Crazytown, population one dead guy.”

“Who was he?” Sam looked over at the bloodied hole in the wall, the plaster knocked away and the wooden slats of the inner wall bent towards them. Alex’s wings twitched curiously, knowing something like that must have come from a great force on the other side.

The detective flipped back through his notes. “Uh, Matthew Hammond. Seems to have been crushed to death.”

“By?”

“Well, if we weren’t on the tenth floor, I’d say by a car.”

Dean and Sam exchanged looks, and the detective stepped back, letting them walk into the actual apartment. Alex glanced at the wall beside them, taking in the bloodstained bricks. “Must’ve taken a hell of a force to knock a guy through a brick wall,” she muttered.

Dean grunted in agreement, and Sam pulled the EMF detector out of his jacket pocket. The moment he flicked it on it started buzzing, and he looked over at Dean. “It’s going crazy,” he said, keeping his voice low as the crime scene analysts left the room. “Some kind of ghost?”

“With a license?” Dean scoffed before stopping, a grin breaking out across his face. “License to kill.”

Alex snorted in amusement, but Sam just frowned. He turned to look back at his brother. “Seriously?” Before Dean could respond, he uttered out a, “Huh.”

“What do you got?” Dean watched as his brother knelt down on the other side of the apartment, large hands going down to probe at a small scattering of brown dirt.

“I don’t know. Looks like some kind of powder.”

“Sulphur?”

“No, just dirt.” Sam stood up and wandered over to the desk against the near wall. “Could be _Christine_ -like.”

The reference went over Alex’s head, but Dean made an unhappy noise.“Ugh.” Then he shook his head, rifling through the contents of a bowl on the island. “Even possessed cars can’t do stairs. It’s something spectral. Check this out.” He picked up a small, round chip out of the bowl. ‘AA, ten years,’ ” he read. “Dead and sober.” He tossed the token to Sam. “Double crappy.”

Sam caught it before turning his attention back to the papers in his hand. “Yeah. There’s this charge that keeps coming up. Fifty bucks a month at a place called Jane’s.” He dropped them back onto the desk. “Alright. Congrats on your sobriety.” He tossed the AA token back to Dean. “I’ll go find out what Jane’s is.”

“I gave up AA for Lent,” Dean half-joked.

“We’re not Catholic.”

“Always with the details. AA gives me the jeebs.”

“Wow. Shocker.”  

“Shut up.”

“Fine,” Sam relented. “I’ll hit the meeting, you go hit on Jane.”

Alex raised her hand. “Um . . .”

“With Sam.” Dean tossed the token to Alex and sauntered back out the door, leaving Alex and Sam alone in the bloodied apartment.

The two hunters exchanged looks, and then Alex shrugged, looking down at the wooden chip in her hand. “Not a huge fan of sobriety myself,” she admitted.

Sam snorted in disbelief. “You’ve hardly even been drunk. Like, what, twice maybe?”

“So?” she quipped back. “Doesn’t mean it doesn’t suck.” Before Sam could respond with some witty remark she tugged him towards the door. “Let’s get this over with, huh? I need some fresh air. First the car, now this bloody room. I need to get outside, stretch my wings.”

“Yeah.” Sam pointed towards the token in her hand. “Put that back, and I’ll ask the detective outside where we can get a hold of that place.”

Alex nodded, walked back over to the bowl. She dropped the wooden chip inside, pausing momentarily to sift through the other trinkets before walking back out of the door. She found Sam talking to the heavyset detective and tugged on his arm, willing him to hurry up.

Sam didn’t object, and he followed her down the elevator and out to the sidewalk. The air was surprisingly warm for March, and the angel’s feathers ruffled out, trying to catch as much of the sun as possible. Her head tilted back, and she heard Sam let out an amused noise. “You know you’re purring, right?”

The angel’s wings immediately fell in, and she bit her lip to stop the rumbling in her chest. “You heard that?”

“Yeah. Reminds me why Dean called you kitten.”

Alex blushed, head ducking in exaggerated embarrassment. “Are we really bringing this up again?” she teased.

“Yup.” Sam crossed the street. “Come on. It should just be down the street from here.”

 

 **“W** ell that wasn’t very helpful.” Alex cast a look back over her shoulder at the woman they had talked to. “Somehow I doubt _almost_ drinking his problems away was the reason this guy was crushed to death by a car in his apartment.”

Sam didn’t answer, and the tips of the angel’s wings flicked in annoyance at the lack of response. “I bet whatever it was triggered him to almost drink had to do with it,” he finally said, voice quiet with that telltale thoughtfulness. He looked down at Alex. “Don’t you think?”

The angel shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe, maybe not,” she relented. “Okay, maybe. It’s probably a ghost, right, which means it’s got to have some sort of wacky spectral-vengeance thing going on. I just — let’s hope Dean had more luck. All we have is a troubled guy and the name of a bar.”

Sam’s phone buzzed, and the hunter dug it out of his pocket. “Dean says to meet him back at the motel,” he read. “Says he has dinner.”

Alex grunted in affirmation. “You had me at dinner.” She quickened her pace, taking the lead and leaving Sam to hurry after.

 

 **“S** o. Did you guys find anything?” Dean looked up as Sam held open the door for Alex. She hurried inside, shaking out her wings in an attempt to warm back up. Dean watched as she buried her hands back into her pockets. “Cold?”

“Yeah, well, walking around outside in March will do that to you,” the angel quipped back, eyes hungrily sweeping over the bags of food on the table. “What’d you get?”

“Hamburgers. At that one joint down the street? Looked good when we drove into town.” Dean motioned to the fridge behind him. “Picked up a two liters for you too.”

“Ooh, yay.” Alex hurried over to the small black fridge, flinging open the door to find a two liter bottle of Mountain Dew. She picked it up and carried it over to her spot at the table before plopping down. “Well, we found squat. The guy almost got drunk before he died, but that’s about it.”

“Huh. Where?”

“Uh . . . a tavern.” Alex looked up at Sam, expecting him to remember it’s name.

He did. “Neal’s Tavern,” he finished before sitting down beside his brother. “What about you? Find anything about Jane?”

“Well, it’s not a hot lady. It’s a flower shop.” Dean tossed Sam a burger before doing the same to Alex. “Uh, I talked to the woman there. Said Hammond came in a few days ago and paid in advance to have flowers delivered to a Miss Elizabeth Duren for three years.” He dug a scrap of paper out of the table and dropped it in front of them. “Here’s her address.”

“And?” Sam reached forward to read what was on it.  
   
“It’s a cemetery.” Dean crumpled up the empty plastic bag and tossed it aside. “Elizabeth Duren’s been dead ten years.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Went to check out her grave. Figured we could torch her tonight.” When Sam grunted in agreement, the conversation died.

 

 **“E** lizabeth Duren.” Sam broke the silence in the motel room, and both Alex and Dean looked over at the kitchen table where he sat. It was close to four in the morning, and only about twenty minutes back had the youngest Winchester begun to look into the dead child. “Killed ten years ago when a neighbor backed out of his driveway. Didn’t see her bike. No one was ever charged. Police ruled it an accident.”

“Let me guess,” Dean added. “The neighbor’s our tenth-floor pancake.” He looked over at his brother from where he was seated on the old, beaten couch that lay across from the two beds.

Sam nodded. “At least we knew he felt bad. I mean, the flowers . . .”

“Kinda makes you wonder if the guy wasn’t drunk when he ran her over.” Dean looked down at his beer bottle, and Alex followed his gaze.

“So we really think that it’s this girl?” she finally asked. “I mean, seems a little strange for a ten year old to run a guy over with a car. Can ghosts do that?”

Sam nodded. “It’s been heard of, yeah. Killing their victims in the way they were killed. I mean, it’s not common, but it can happen.” He closed his laptop and stood up. “Well, regardless, now that we’ve got a decent lead on ghost rider, let’s go.”

 

 **I** t only took them an hour or so to dig up the grave, the March air having already thawed the dirt. However, by the time they had finished the sun was already peeking through the trees. Alex sent up a quick thanks to their Father about the warm winter they had been having as she rolled out of the Impala and followed the Winchesters up the stairs. “Oh, another night at the office.” Dean unlocked their door and pushed his way inside. “Why don’t you take the first shower?”

“Listen to this.” Sam’s gaze was focused on the newspaper he had picked up at the gas station on their return trip. “A local man, Christian Fisher, was ripped to shreds in a wild animal attack.”

“It is a dangerous world out there,” Dean agreed. He dropped his bag of breakfast on the bed and set his cup off coffee down on the floor as he sat down on the bed. He paused only momentarily to strip on his jacket be promptly collapsing backwards on the bed. Alex joined him, leaning up against the headboard.

Sam, however, just sat down at the table. “He was in the restroom of a diner.”

“Yeah, that doesn’t sound right.” Dean grunted in annoyance as he sat back up. He ran a hand through his hair, leaving the strands standing up every which way.

Seeing that he had his brother’s attention, Sam continued. “Apparently, uh, none of the other patrons saw anything. Guy calls 911 screaming about a dog, but the operator doesn’t here anything either.”

“Mm. Okay.” Dean moved his way back up the bed, laying with his head on the pillow. “See what you can find. I . . . I’m gonna take a nap.”

Sam let out a grunt as he pulled his laptop close, and Alex crossed her legs, content with just sitting on the bed beside the eldest Winchester. She could hear his breathing slow almost immediately as he drifted off into a light sleep. It was barely a minute later before Sam spoke again. “Wow. Looks like this guy had a history with dogs.”

His voice woke Dean, who grumbled as he rolled over to sit back up. “Meaning?” Seeing that he wasn’t going to get any sleep, the hunter picked up his coffee and reached into his bag for his breakfast.

“Five years ago, he was arrested for running a dog-fighting operation.”

“Classy,” Dean grunted, but Alex just frowned.

“That’s not possible, right?” she mused, leaning forward slightly. “I mean, the ghost of a little girl’s one thing, but do dogs even have ghosts? I’ve never heard of that.”

“Yeah, same here.” Sam’s frown deepened at the thought.

“That sounds weird,” Dean agreed. “Ghost dog?”

“No weirder than ghost car, you know?” Sam retorted. His gaze dropped back down to his laptop as Alex continued.

“Something’s not right. I mean, two different ghost cases within days of each other with no relation? There’s got to be something more going on, you know? Like, like a curse or a pagan god or something.”

Dean interrupted her. “You know what makes sense? Vengeance on the guy who Michael Vick’d you. I mean, I’m no one to judge, but it sounds to me like this guy had it coming.”

Sam hesitated. “Maybe . . .” he slowly agreed. “Maybe not. So, he got busted, got probation, started volunteering at an animal shelter.”

“Animal shelter?” Alex perked up. “Ooh. Maybe we should check that place out. For, uh, clues.” She nudged Dean’s hip with her shoe-clad foot. “You in?”

Dean, however, wrinkled his nose. “You know I’m allergic to cats, right?”

The angel frowned. “I want a cat,” she said childishly, a frown on her lips. “What about dogs? You allergic to dogs?”

When Dean didn’t answer Sam shook his head. “He’s fine with dogs,” he promised. “Speaking of, uh, this guy continued volunteering long after he’d served his time. Looks like he really got into it. Raised a lot of money for the cause.” He spun his laptop so they could see the article he was looking at, but from that distance all Alex could make out was a picture with a man — assumedly the victim — and a white, fluffy dog.

Dean got up and walked over to the table, sitting down in the chair opposite him. “Huh.”

“People change.”

“Yeah, tell that to ghost dog.” Dean dropped his breakfast on the table before standing up. He walked back over to the bed, one hand holding his coffee, and the other going to his back as he stretched, face contorting in discomfort at the soreness of his muscles. Alex’s wings twitched in sympathy, the same low burning in her own back from the digging they had done only hours earlier.

Sam stood up as well. “Alright. Uh, get suited up. Let’s go check out this body.”

“What?”

“What?”

“What?” Dean repeated. He turned back around to face his brother. “What?”

“Nothing. I . . .” Sam looked confused. “You okay?”

“Peachy.” Dean reluctantly set his coffee cup down on the nightstand. “Yeah. Let’s do this.”

“Sam and I can take this one if you want to sleep,” Alex offered. “It’s been a while since you’ve, you know, done that.”

Dean thoughtful for a moment, seriously considering taking her up on that offer. Then he shook his head. “No. I can sleep when this is over.”

“Suit yourself.” Alex got up off of the bed and walked over to her bag. “Dibs on the bathroom.” She grabbed her bag and hurried towards the far door. It took her only a minute or two to change into her black pants and white shirt. The angel was halfway through tugging on her black suit coat before something in the mirror caught her eye. She frowned at the smudge of dirt across her forehead before wiping it away with a washcloth. Eying her toothbrush in her bag, she decided it had been long enough.

“We’re out of mouthwash.” The young angel stuck her head out of the bathroom door, toothbrush firmly lodged between her teeth and cheek.

Dean paused from where he was buttoning up his oxford. “We’ll have to pick some up later,” he conceded. “You’ll have to live with your bad breath a little longer, princess.”

Alex frowned, still not particularly fond of the nickname. “I’m an angel. My breath always smells minty fresh. You’re the one I’m worried about.” She slipped back into the bathroom to rinse off her toothbrush and spit before returning to the main room.

Dean was just finishing tying his tie, and Sam was already by the door, his newspaper tucked under his arm. The angel’s hand immediately went down to her pant’s pocket, letting out a satisfied breath at the familiar rectangle of her FBI credentials. “I’m ready whenever you are,” she told them, gesturing towards Dean, who seemed to be having difficulty pulling on his jacket.

The hunter grunted, finally getting his second arm into the sleeves. “I’m fine. Let’s go.”

 

 **D** ean pulled the Impala up alongside the front door to the Wayne County Coroner’s Office. Alex threw open the back door and got out alongside Sam, hesitating when Dean didn’t follow. “You coming?”

The Winchester shook his head, stifling a yawn. “I’ll keep the car warm,” he promised, and Alex rolled her eyes, not bothering to point out the obvious fact that it was already almost fifty degrees out. Instead, she just slammed the door before following Sam in through the double doors.

“Agents Brodén and van Dahl.” Sam motioned to himself and Alex in turn, digging into his jacket pocket to produce his ID. Alex did the same, and the woman at the front counter nodded. “We’re here to see the body of a Mr. Fisher.”

“Uh, sure.” The woman looked around. Seeing no one, she stood up. “Dr. Levy will be in his office. Uh, just down the hall and to the right. Three doors down.”

“Thank you.” Sam dipped his head in thanks before leading in the direction they had been ushered. Alex fell into step beside him, almost missing the large wooden door marked DR. D LEVY. Sam’s arm went out to catch her, causing the angel to jerk her head up in confusion as the hunter rapped on the door twice.

“Come in.”

Sam pushed the door open. “Hi. Agents Brodén and van Dahl. FBI. We’d here about Mr. Fisher?”

“Oh, yes.” The short bald man slowly stood up, sharp eyes scrutinizing the two carefully before nodding in consent. “Right this way.” He led them back down the hall, this time to the left. “It’s an interesting case, definitely,” he agreed. “It’s obviously an animal attack, but no one in the diner heard a thing.”

Sam nodded. “That’s why we’re here.” He and Alex watched as the coroner pulled the body out from the large refrigeration unit. “Can we have a minute alone?” he asked then added, “My partner, uh, specializes in this kind of thing.”

“I was originally a forensic anthropologist,” Alex lied, reaching for the rubber gloves on the counter next to her. When Dr. Levy didn’t leave she raised her head, wings raising slightly and shoulders squaring in authority. “I’m quite capable, I promise.”

She held his gaze, unblinking, until he caved. “I’ll be outside.”

The minute he left Alex turned her attention back to the body, rolling the gloves in between her palms. “Well, he’s obviously dead,” she quipped dryly, taking a moment to study the assemblage of jagged wounds across his chest. “Ouch.”

Sam reached by her and pulled out a plastic glove. He, however, didn’t bother to put it on, but simply held it in one hand, using it to pick up the corpse’s left hand. “Hey. Look at this.” He used his free hand to point to the blunt fingernails.

“What about them?” Alex squinted as she studied them. The fingernails were dirty, a light dirt lodged under them. “Is that . . ?”

“The same kind of dirt I found yesterday? Yeah, I think so. I mean, red dirt at two different crime scenes? That’s got to be a connection.”

“So they were both at a place with . . . dirt.” Alex tossed the gloves into the hazard basket beside her. “Great. That really narrows it down to a lot of places in rural Michigan.” She watched as Sam moved down to the end of the stainless steel sliding tray.

He pulled the victim’s shoes out from the plastic bag, turning them over to examine the soles before tipping them so Alex could see. “Same dirt here.”

“Cool.”

“Come on.” Sam led the way back out of the swinging double doors. With a word of thanks and a promise of staying in touch with the coroner they hurried back outside. Dean hadn’t moved the car, and was now leaning against the hood, watched people pass by. Seeing them come out, he straightened up.

“So guess what I found.” Sam came to a stop in front of his brother. “Red dirt. Under his nails. On his shoes, too.”

“Just like the, uh, car-crash guy’s floor?” Dean guessed, and Alex nodded.

“Yeah,” Sam vocally agreed. “So, gotta be somewhere around here they both walked.”

“Cool.” Dean opened the car door. “So, back to the motel?” Before Sam and Alex could say anything he got in and started the car.

 

 **D** ean didn't waste any time to change once they got back, and then promptly collapsed onto the bed. Alex joined him with her laptop, sitting in the middle of the bed. Sam once again took the kitchen table, and the room fell silent, bar Dean’s soft breathing, already slow with sleep.

Half an hour later Sam cleared his throat. “I think I know where they went.”

His voice stirred Dean, who groggily rolled over, mumbling a protest and burying his head into Alex’s side. The angel snorted in amusement, hand going out to brush through the hunter’s hair, who was obviously not conscious enough to fully know what he was doing. In response, Dean’s free hand tangled itself into her shirt, wiggling so his face was further pressed into her side, blocking out the room’s light. Alex ignored him, gaze moving back to Sam. “Where?” she asked, making sure to keep her voice low.

“Apple orchard a few miles out. The red dirt’s good for the trees or something.” Sam closed his laptop and grabbed his jacket. “Should we go check it out?”

Dean mumbled something incoherent, still only half-awake, and Alex shook her head. “Our driver’s still asleep,” she teased. “Speaking of, when’s the last time you got any sleep, man?”

Sam shrugged. “Haven’t been tired. Slept in the car yesterday.”

Alex rolled her eyes. “Maybe you should take a nap,” she suggested. “You know, before we get too involved in this case?” When Sam still didn’t look convinced she added, “If we’re gonna go to wherever these people have been, you should probably be wide awake to face whatever’s there.”

To her surprise, Sam shook his head. “I’m gonna go grab another coffee.” He pulled on his jacket and left. Alex just shrugged, not exactly pleased at Sam’s choice; then again, he was a grown man and knew what he needed. Dean shifted again, mumbling in his sleep, and Alex sighed, turning her attention back to her screen.

 

 **D** ean slowly awoke a few hours later. Alex was stirred out of her thoughts by the increased and reluctant movement next to her. “Dean.” Alex shook his shoulder, and Dean mumbled something out, turning his head back into the pillow. Only a second later he rolled onto his back, green eyes reluctantly opening. Alex smiled at the sight. “Morning.”

Dean only grunted in response. He struggled to sit up, sleep still weighing him down, and the angel reached out, running a light hand through his soft hair. “You look like a hedgehog,” she teased.

Dean grunted again, knocking her hand away before replacing with his own, messing up his hair even more. “What time is it?” he eventually asked, stifling a yawn.

“Almost two.” Alex snapped her compute shut. “Sam’s figured out where to go. He wanted to leave right away, but I let you sleep.”

Dean mumbled out a thanks, while Sam let out a half-hearted protest. “I’m right here, you know.”

“Congratulations.” Alex got off of the bed, smoothing down her t-shirt, which was quite crumpled from where Dean had been holding it. “So, we should probably check out this apple farm at some point, huh?”

Dean yawned as he nodded. “I’m ready to go. Sam?”

“Yeah. Let’s go.”

 

 **“S** o, an apple farm?” Dean looked over at his brother, eyebrows raised in a question. Alex grunted in agreement, watching the rows of apple trees fly by before giving way to an open field.

“Yeah. Apparently whatever’s in the red dirt makes great apples.”

“Wow. I’d be _so_ interested in that if I ate apples.” Dean held up a fist, and Alex leaned forward, wrapping her hand around his.

“You eat apples,” she retorted. “Hell, you had apple pie for dinner last night.”

“Whatever.” Dean shook his fist loose, and Alex fell back into her seat with a small laugh.

“So this one’s suppose to be old,” Sam continued, ignoring their little exchange. “Uh, mostly abandoned. Few hundred acres.”

“Few hundred?!” Dean looked over at his brother, incredulity across his face. “We’re gonna be searching all year — whoa!” He slammed on the brakes as an old man ran out into the road, waving his arms frantically. The car jerked to a halt only inches from his torso, and Alex could see the fear mixed with relief in those dark eyes before she threw open the door.

Sam and Dean did the same. “Hey!” Sam reached the man first. “Uh . . . you okay?”

“Guy just jumped in front of a car, Sam.”

Dark skin stood in stark contrast to his short white beard, and thin grey hair curled on top of his scalp, which Alex could plainly see as the man leaned forward, hands on his thighs as he took in deep, ragged breaths.

Sam looked down in worry and confusion. “Uh, do you want us to help you, sir?”

The man didn’t answer, still too out of breath, and Dean put a hesitant hand on his shoulder. “Okay, well, why don’t we get you out of her before you get roadkilled, huh?”

“Yeah,” the man gasped out, and with Sam’s help staggered into the back of the car.

Alex followed, slowly getting into the backseat with the stranger, feathers puffed out with distrust, strongly disliking the idea of having to be so close to this other man. A quick push of her grace, however, proved him to be completely human; that fact, of course, barely helped her relax. She leaned forward and tapped Dean on the shoulder as he slid into the car. “Drive.”

 

 **T** hey were back in town before the stranger had calmed down enough to speak. “Thanks.”

Sam glanced over his shoulder to study the man before he nodded. “Yeah, don’t mention it. What’s your name?”

“And you mind telling us why you jumped in front of my car?” Dean added pointedly as he turned the Impala off of the main road.

“Name’s Warren, and, uh, it’s a little strange.” The older man shifted uncomfortably on the leather seats as Dean pulled the car into the motel parking lot. “Uh . . .”

“We’re FBI.” Sam held out his badge to show him. “We just want to talk.”

That seemed to disperse whatever fear Warren had of them, and he nodded. “Okay. Yeah.” He followed them into the building and up a flight of stairs to their room. Sam unlocked the door, and Dean motioned for Warren to sit on the near bed. The man did, and Alex leaned against the wall, arms cross and wings tight as she watched Sam return with a glass of scotch.

“So, uh, Warren, just take a minute.” The Winchester handed the old man the drink while Dean paced in the background. “Tell us what’s going on.” He sat down on the edge of the other bed, elbows resting on his knees as he leaned forward.

“Look — you’re good people, I can see that, but you can’t do anything for me. No one can.”

“Why not?” Dean sat down in one of the chairs, skepticism creasing his face.

Warren looked over at Dean. “Cause it’s all impossible,” he deadpanned. His gaze shifted back over to a more empathetic Sam. “You won’t even believe me.”

“Well try us.” Impatience sharpened Dean’s voice, and the man shifted in his seat.

There was a pause. “I was just put on trial and sentenced to death.”

Dean’s gaze slid over to Alex, and even from there she could see the hesitant confusion. “What’d you do?”

“Held up a liquor store. I killed the owner and his wife. I wasn’t thinking.” Warren’s voice tremored at the memories. “I was young.”

 _Young?_ Alex cocked an eyebrow, using her foot to push herself off of the thin wall. “How old were you?” she asked, wandering over to stand behind Dean. “When was this?”

“1981.”

Dean’s eyes widened, and he leaned forward in confusion. “And they _just_ put you on trial?”

“No, no I just got out prison.”

“Okay, you’re making less sense the more you talk.” Dean stood up, ready to leave, but Sam jumped to his feet, holding out his hand. “Sam . . .”

“No, it’s okay.” Sam nodded at Warren. “Just . . . go on.”

“Did thirty years. I just go paroled. Not that you’re ever free of that. I think about it every day.”

“So, then, what are you running from?”

“Well, I told you! The _trial_.” Warren stood up, eyes wide. “All I know is that one minute I’m at the bar, and the next, I get jumped, wake up in a damn courtroom.”

“Courtroom?” Dean repeated skeptically. “Like a . . . courtroom?”

“Well, no. There was a judge.” Warren shook his head, eyes narrowing as he focused his thoughts. “Everything was crazy. It was in a barn.”

“At the apple farm?”

“Yeah.”

Sam looked back at his brother for only a second before asking, “And this bar where you were grabbed?”

“Neal’s Tavern.”

Sam turned to Dean, voice lowered to a whisper that only Dean and Alex could hear. “Same place Matthew Hammond went before his . . . car accident. Think maybe doggy guy went there, too?” Before Dean could answer he turned back to Warren. “Is there anything else you can tell us?”

“You believe me?” The man looked both confused and relieved, but over all of that still lay terror. “Who the hell are you?”

“We kind of . . .” Sam hesitated, deciding on the best words, “specialize in crazy,” he finally said. “So, this, uh, judge. He got a name?”

“No. B-But there were these weird symbols.”

“Symbols? Do you remember any of them?” Immediately Sam got excited, and Alex tipped her head in confusion, not sure where his sudden and intense level of interest was coming from. Sam grabbed a pencil and a few sheets of paper from the nightstand. “Can you draw them?” He hurriedly shoved them into Warren’s hand, and Dean stepped forward.

He gently grabbed his brother’s elbow. “Can you excuse us a second?” He tugged Sam away, a scowl darkening his face. “Can I talk to you?” Expecting Sam to follow, he walked towards the door. Alex moved to follow, stopping when Dean pointed at her. “Stay here,” he warned, and then he was gone. Sam followed with a shrug, and then the door was closed.

Alex let out a huff of annoyance before returning to her original position on the wall. Warren cleared his throat, pointing towards the table. “Uh, may I?”

The young angel crossed her arms. “Help yourself.”

 

 **S** am returned five minutes later, and Alex’s wings twitched in curiosity as he closed the door behind him. Warren had long since finished his task, and was now pacing beside the beds. He stopped when Sam entered, and Alex let out a breath of relief; his movements had been getting on her nerves. “Where’s Dean?” she questioned, head tilting when the other Winchester didn’t appear.

Warren echoed her. “Where’s that other guy?”

“He, uh . . . everything’s fine. Look, let’s just get back to that farm.” Sam took a step towards Warren, who immediately backpedalled.

“Oh, no no no.” He shook his head. “No, I’m not going back.”

“Warren, I need your help finding the barn.”

“It’s red — it stands out.” Warren ignored Alex’s amused breath at those words. “Look, I — I’m not going back. They’re out there?”

“Who?”

“The people I killed! I just — no.” Sam stepped forward ,and Warren stepped back. “No!”

“You’re safer with me than not.” Sam looked back at Alex, eyes asking her to back him up. She nodded, but Warren once again shook his head.

“No,” he insisted.

“Sam, let’s just go.” Alex moved forward, eying the man with a sense of distaste. “What’s the point in even taking him, huh? It’s in a barn. We can find a barn. And if we find anything, he’ll probably just end up dead or something.”

Upon hearing those words, the man moved back even farther, a hand going up to keep the two hunters back. “I — I’m staying here.”

Sam let out a sigh. “Okay.” He snatched the papers out of Warren’s hands. “Fine.” Before anyone would respond he turned around and pulled the large faded armchair into the center of the room. “Sit.”

Warren slowly did as he asked. “Uh . . . why?”

Sam walked over to his bag, only to return with a cylindrical box of salt. “Just do it.” He poured the salt down on the floor in a small circle, leaving Warren and the chair in the center. “I need you to stay inside this circle until I get back, okay? It’ll protect you.”

“How?”

“Just trust me, okay? I’m trying to help.” Sam straightened up and set the salt down on top of the tv. He flicked the large box on and then tossed the remote to the man. “Stay put.” He whipped out his cell phone before walking over to where he had set the papers down earlier. “Bobby? Hey. It’s me. Listen — I’m sending you some symbols to look up.” Sam motioned for Alex to follow him out of the motel door.

 _Be right there,_ Alex mouthed, and Sam nodded before disappearing. The angel made a beeline to Dean’s duffle bag, pawing through it before returning to Warren. “Here.” She held out a crowbar. “Uh, if the salt doesn’t hold, this’ll come in handy.”

The man took in, confusion darkening his eyes. “What am I suppose to do with this?”

The angel shrugged. “Whack ‘em with it. Sorta. You’ll figure it out.” She hurried to the motel door before pausing. “Oh, and, seriously. Stay put. We’ll be back.” Then she hurried after Sam.

Her grace told her that he was already in the parking lot, and she hurried over to the Impala to find the youngest Winchester leaning against the trunk. “Hey.”

“Hey-o.” Alex lifted herself up onto the trunk next to him. “So . . . how’s Bobby?”

“He’s, uh, he’s doing good. I sent him those symbols Warren drew.” Sam held out the paper, and Alex took it, eyes darting over the sketchings. “What’d you think?”

“Uh, definitely looks Egyptian.” Alex’s finger traced a cross-like image before she looked back up at the hunter. “Pagan god, you think? Do we even _get_ Egyptian gods in the Midwest?”

Sam shrugged. “Wouldn’t surprise me. I mean, they have rune stones in the area, right? That’s vikings.” He shook his head. “Never mind.” He circled around to the door. “Let’s go see if we can find that barn.”

“Where’d Dean go?” Alex slid into passenger seat next to him, head cocking in confusion.

“Neal’s Tavern.”

“Huh. To work or to drink?”

“He hasn’t decided.” Sam backed the Impala out of the parking lot. “You, uh — is Warren good to go?”

The angel shrugged her shoulders. “He’s been told to stay inside the salt circle. I, uh, I gave him a iron crowbar incase anything comes-a-howling.” She paused, head tipping back and to one side as she thought. “He’s probably gonna get shot, right?”

“Huh?”

“Well, Hammond got pancaked by a car cause he ran that little girl over, right? And the dog fighter got mauled? This guy shot a guy and his wife.” She looked over at Sam. “I’d call it a safe bet.”

Sam nodded in agreement, and the Impala sped out of town.

 

 **“Y** ou sure about this?” Alex rolled out of the car, shaking her wings out in the dusky twilight. The sun had set ten or so minutes back, and this was the second barn on the property.

“There’s only the two,” Sam retorted. “The last one was barely even standing.” He grabbed his sawed-off up off of the seat and waved her forward. “Come on. The sooner we get this checked out the sooner we can get back.”

Alex followed, not seeing any problem with his logic. The door was locked with a heavy iron padlock, and with a reluctant shiver the angel forced it open with her grace. It stung, but only a second later the chain fell to the ground with a dusty rattle. She nodded. Picking locks was getting easier.

“See anything?” Sam slipped into the barn, flashlight darting over the empty room.

Alex shook her head, her own vision not impeded by the darkness. “Looks empty,” she concurred, shoulders dropping in disappointment. She flicked her grace out, but felt nothing out of the ordinary. “I don’t feel anything, man. This is a bust too.” She glanced back at Sam to see him kneeling on the ground. “What?”

“Red dirt.” Sam was stopped from continuing by his phone, the plucky ringtone echoing through the buildings. “It’s Bobby.” Sam waved her over as he answered. “What’d you got?”

“Those chicken scratches — definitely Egyptians.” Bobby’s gruff voice came over the phone as Sam held it between himself and Alex. “ ‘Book of the Dead.’ ”

“So, good news then.”

Bobby didn’t answer. “They identify the god Osiris,” he informed them instead. “Real authoritarian type. He gets a hold of you, he’s judge, jury, and executioner. Lore says that he can see directly into the human heart. He weighs the guilt. If he finds more than a feather’s worth — boom. You’re done.”

Sam glanced at Alex. “So . . . what’s he doing in Dearborn?”

“Well, it seems that he just pops up and does his circuit-judge act and then disappears again. That’s all I’ve got so far.” A pause before, “You know what this means.”

“Yeah. We got to find him before he gets underground again.”

“No, you idjit. It means the three of you get the hell out of Dodge! The guy hones in on people who feel guilty! Who does that sound like to you?”

A short pause before Alex shrugged. “Sounds like everyone I know,” she half-joked.

“Dean.” Sam hung up the phone before dialing his brother’s number. It rang several times before going to voicemail. Sam brought the phone up to his ear. “Dean. Call me back when you get the chance. It’s important.” He hung up and hurried out of the barn, calling his brother again. “Dean. Seriously. Call me.”

“He not answering?”

Sam called again. Once again it rang before going to voicemail. “Dude, third message. You better not be loaded. Call me. This is important.” He hung up, and only seconds later his phone rang. Sam rolled his eyes and answered. “Dean. About time, man. I —” He was cut off, and confusion darkened his face. “Who is this?” A pause, a “Yeah,” and then Sam hurried towards the car. “Where are you? I can be right there.”

He waved Alex over and she jumped into the car as Sam threw the car into drive. “What’s going on? What’s up with Dean?”

“It wasn’t Dean.”

‘But how —”

 “I don’t know. It was a woman. Said she had been waiting there ten minutes for Dean. Said she only picked up the phone cause it had been ringing.” He looked over at her, something flashing through his hazel eyes. “She found the phone outside of Neal’s Tavern.”

“Shit,” the angel cursed. “That’s where the other guys got picked up.” She glanced back towards the barn. “Where are we going?”

“Bar. See if Dean’s gone or not.”

“But why wouldn’t he —” A look from Sam had her falling silent, gaze shifting towards the apple trees whizzing by.

 

 **O** nly ten minutes later the Impala pulled up to the back of Neal’s Tavern. A short, blonde woman stood by the back door, pacing back and forth. She smelled of alcohol, but Alex couldn’t detect any signs of impairment or alcohol in her blood, leaving her to suspect the woman in front of her to be one of the establishment’s workers. The woman stopped when Sam jumped out of the car, eyes widening only momentarily as she took in the hunter’s tall form. “Uh, here it is.” She held out Dean’s phone. “Uh, well I hope he’s okay.”

Sam took it and, after verifying that it was in fact Dean’s, shoved it into his pocket. “Now, where exactly did you find this phone?”

“Uh . . . there.” The woman pointed towards the ground a few feet off, and Sam hurried over to the spot.

He knelt down, and Alex circled around the car to stand in front of him. Sam looked up, motioning to the smudge of red dirt on the sidewalk. The angel’s wings prickled nervously. “Osiris.”

“Great.”

 

 **T** he barn was as quiet as when they had left, but something was off. Alex pushed out her grace, skimming around the bar but never dipping inside. The wood radiated with energy, foreign and ancient, and she pulled her wings in close as her angel blade slipped into her hands.

The barn door was closed, and Sam shifted his sawed-off shotgun into one hand as he cautiously slid it open. The door creaked and groaned with each inch it slid back, and Sam stopped as soon as he could slid through. Alex followed, her smaller form easily fitting through. The front room was empty, but the air thrummed with power. Alex pointed towards the second half of the barn, divided from the first by a large wooden wall.

Sam nodded, leading the way towards the door.

“—squirming, Mr. Winchester.” A deep, firm voice reached the angel’s ears. It had a slight accent, but not one that Alex could immediately place. “They’re Houdini-proof. Now. You want to talk charges, or —”

“I’d rather talk about your Bukowski schtick at the bar,” Dean snapped back, and from what Alex could tell, he sounded more frustrated than scared. “What, you can’t just jump a guy when he’s sober?”

“You and the waitress had quiet a talk, huh?” Alex pressed herself into the wooden wall as the other man continued. She kept her grace in tight, not wanting the deity inside to feel her. “Get a couple of drinks in you, and the guilt comes pouring out.”

“Oh, eavesdropping — that’s cute.”

“Speaking of . . .” The voice grew louder. “You going to sulk all night, Sam?” The door in front of them slid open on its own, and Alex rolled her shoulders back as she and Sam were revealed. A man sat on a golden throne, one elbow casually resting on it’s arm. The other hand held up a silver staff. He was wearing a black robe with a large silver necklace which confirmed that he was the Egyptian god Osiris. The firelight danced across his dark skin as he raised an eyebrow. “I see you brought your angel friend along as well.”

Alex’s wings fluttered in distaste, but she held her tongue.

Dean craned his head to look back at them, and Sam led the way into the room. “Sam?”

“Nice job finding us,” the deity commended. “I assume you figured out who I am, too?”

Sam nodded. “Yeah.”

Dean looked up at his brother who had stopped right beside him. “You want to fill me in?” he asked, voice growing hoarse.

“Osiris. He’s an Egyptian God.”

“Yeah, I think Dean’s gotten the Egyptian part,” Alex muttered, eyes running over the large stone statues that stood on either side of a large fire. “Kinda obvious, don’t you think.”

“Ta-da.” Osiris held out his hand in a small gesture. “Now, go about your business, Sammy.” The deity attempted to shoo him away with a condescending tone and a small wave of his hand.

“Look, if anyone should be put on trial, it’s me.”

Osiris’s voice grew dangerously low. “That’s for me to decide. Now go away.”

“But he —” Sam scrambled for an idea, “—he has the right to an attorney. Doesn’t he? Let me defend him.”

“Huh.” Osiris looked thoughtful. “Well, that’s unusual.”

“Are you going to respect his rights or not?”

“Why not?” Osiris watched as Alex hurried over to stand behind Dean. “ _Not_ the angel.”

Alex’s wings flared out in offense, and she coldly held the god’s gaze. “Why not?” she snapped. “You’re the judge, jury, and executioner, but you got a problem with two attorneys?”

Osiris chuckled. “You make a fair point. But I don’t like angels.” He snapped his fingers, and a third chair materialized beside where Sam was sitting. “Sit down and be quiet, _khered.”_

 _Child_. The word translated in Alex’s mind, and she huffed in objection as she sat down, arms crossed. Sam leaned over. “You know you’re not a lawyer,” he whispered.

“Yeah, well, neither are you.”

“Alright then.” Osiris cut her off. “Let’s get started.” He pounded his staff into the ground, leaving three heavy knocks echoing off of the bare walls. “Now, the list of witnesses I can call — endless.”

“Objection!”

The god leaned forward and looked over at the Winchester. “Are you going to let me finish my sentence, Sam?”

“No! This isn’t fair.”

“Fair?” The deity let out a short laugh. “I’m sorry. Moving on. I can make it very simple. Three witnesses.” He held up three fingers to underline his point.

“Objection,” Sam called again, and this time Osiris looked very much annoyed.

“Grounds?” he asked.

“Witnesses being called without prior notice.”

“Good one,” Dean murmured, and Sam nodded.

“I saw that one on _Good Wife_ ,” he admitted.

“Yes.” Osiris nodded. “Very fine objection. _Denied_.”

“What? Why?”

“Because I’m the judge, son. Now stop objecting, or I’ll find you in contempt — that is, kill you.” Osiris ignored how Alex’s feather’s ruffled out at the threat, and his voice grew dangerously low. “So I advise you to let me move along.” Seeing he had Sam’s compliance he leaned back, voice rising back to its loud cadence. “The prosecution calls Joanna Beth Harvelle to the stand.”

The air grew cold, and Alex watched as the air flickered until a young woman stood there, looking around in confusion.

“Jo?” Dean breathed her name, and Alex felt a flicker of guilt ripple through her grace.

“Dean. Sam. Long time.” Jo nodded at the three of them, an emotion Alex couldn’t place from that distance across her face.

Osiris motioned towards the chair beside him, and Jo sat down. “State your name for the court.”

“Jo Harvelle.”

The god laid his staff across his knees. “And . . . what is your relationship to Dean Winchester?”

“We worked together.”

“Isn’t it true that you admire him?”

Jo shifted uncomfortably in her chair, glancing over at Dean. “Well as a hunter . . . yeah,” she finally said. With a breath of humor she added, “As a guy he was kind of a jerk.”

Alex cast a glance at Dean, slightly surprise to see how hurt he look.

“So you saw him as sort of a mentor of sorts?”

Jo turned her gaze to Osiris, meeting his gaze. “I wouldn’t put it like that.”

“Then how would you put it?”

“I don’t know. I trusted him. So if you’re trying to say that he was a bad guy or something —”

Osiris cut her off. “Was it hard?”

“What?”

“Working with him . . . considering your feelings.”

It was obvious Jo knew what he was talking about, but she remained stubborn as she shook her head. “No. What feelings?”

“You would have done quite a bit for him. Followed him into any battle.”

“I know what you’re getting at and it’s bullshit.”

“So Dean had nothing to do with your first case. The one that started it all.”

Jo hesitated. “It wasn’t like that.”

“No feelings. None at all. You would have chosen the exact same road. Ended up in that hardware store, holding the fuse —”

“Oh, you’re a piece of work. You know that?” Dean cut him off angrily. “Putting words in her mouth —”

Osiris motioned towards Dean, and the hunter fell back into his seat, voice roughly cut off. “Keep him under control, counsel . . . or I’ll remove his tongue.” The deity released his grip, and Dean gasped for air. “Your witness.”

Sam pushed back his chair, the legs squealing against the concrete floor. He approached Jo, movements slightly stiff, heavy with emotions. “Jo.” His voice cracked, and he swallowed to clear it. “So, um . . . your dad . . . was in the life?”

“Yes he was.”

“And your relationship with him?” Sam crossed his arms, shifting his weight as his voice shook again.

“Good, I mean . . .”

“You idolized him.”

Jo nodded. “Basically.”

“So why’d you start? To impress some loudmouth ass you met . . . or cause you wanted to be like your dad?”

“Daddy issues,” Jo full-heartedly agreed. “Definitely. Listen, Dean, I don’t —” Jo suddenly flickered and disappeared, and Sam stepped back in confusion.

Alex jumped to her feet. “Objection. Removing the witness.”

“Sit down.”

“Shut up. If you’re going to play courtroom you should at least play fa—” Power pushed against her, and Alex pushed back with her grace, anger fueling her on. It pulled back slightly, and she frowned. “You done?”

The god’s dark eyes sparkled with interest. “Archangel?”

“Yeah, not quite.” Alex waved it off, still not keen the Winchesters knowing about Lucifer’s grace inside her. “So, you gonna bring Jo back?”

“I’m calling my next witness.” Osiris looked over at Dean. “I’ll give the three of you a moment to strategize.”

Sam nodded and hurried over to Alex and Dean. “All right. Who’s the next witness? He looked at you like you’d know.”

Dean shook his head. “I got no clue,” he insisted. “This whole thing’s like a fucking episode of ‘Pee-Wee’s Playhouse.’ ”

“Next witness,” the god announced, drawing their attention back to him. “The prosecution calls . . . Sam Winchester.” Osiris gestured towards the witness chair, and Sam, after a brief pause of confusion, did as he was asked. The deity cleared his throat, voice growing softer. “Sam . . . Not really the life you expected, is it?”

“Detail’s a little different,” Sam shrugged, obviously playing up the nonchalant manner of his response.

Osiris ignored him. “For a while there, you were gonna be a real lawyer. Marry Jess.”

“Yeah. That was a long time ago.”

“But were you or were you not happily out of the family racket until Dean showed back up in that gas guzzler?” Sam opened his mouth to protest, but the god cut him off. “Ah-ah. The truth, now.”

“It’s complicated.”

“That one act had quite the domino effect. You come back, your girlfriend’s dead.”

“Well, that wasn’t his fault.”

“Sure, and neither is anything that came after — all the death and the blood and hanging on by the thread.” As his voice swelled so did his accent, growing thicker with each word. “None of that is on Dean directly.” The god paused to let that sink in. “But don’t you think that your brother dragged you back into this catastrophic mess because he’d rather damn you with him than be alone?”

Sam didn’t immediately answer, and the room fell silent. “No,” he finally said. “I would have gotten dragged back in one way or another.”

Alex ran a hand through her hair as Dean shifted nervously. She could feel the guilt prickling at his skin, and she took in a deep breath before standing up. “I’d like to cross-examine the witness.”

Osiris raised an eyebrow as he turned to look at Alex. “I’m not done.”

“Yeah, I think you are. You’ve made your point. Now can I . . .” Alex motioned towards Sam, and Osiris hesitated, scrutinizing her with his dark eyes before nodding. “Thank you.”

Alex moved past Dean, but he reached out, grabbing her arm. “What are you doing?” he hissed.

Alex brushed him off. “Hopefully saving your ass.”

She crossed the room to stand in front of Sam, who looked very much confused. “Alex. I can —”

Alex shook her head. “Five minutes. Sam.” She cleared her throat, not really sure where to start. “Uh . . . okay. Tell me. You were chosen by Azazel when you were young, right?”

“Uh . . . yeah. I was.”

“Was this Dean’s fault?”

Sam’s eyes narrowed in confusion. “No.”

“Okay. Tell me. If Dean _hadn’t_ come back for you after Stanford, would Jess have died the same way?” When Sam looked confused she rephrased. “You told me a while back that one of your best friends was a demon.”

“Yeah. Brady.”

“What’d he tell you? About Jess.” Alex stepped closer when Sam looked away. “Come on, man. What’d he say?”

Sam looked over at Osiris. “He said that he killed Jess to get me back into the life.”

“So was it really Dean’s fault? Wouldn’t Jess have ended up dead anyways?” When Sam nodded she continued. “Okay. So you getting back into hunting; wouldn’t that have happened anyways? You still would have gone after Jess’ killer.”

 “Yeah.”

Alex saw Osiris open his mouth, and she turned to acknowledge him. “Just a few more questions,” she promised as she could before turning back to Sam. “Okay. Uh.” She took a deep breath, waging a war inside her mind. “Okay,” she finally repeated. “Sam. Hypothetical question: who’s more guilty? Someone who had no idea what’s happening, or someone who knew it would happen?”

“What?”

“Answer the question.”

“Uh, the second choice I suppose.”

“Right. How could the first person know? It’s not their fault. The second person could have stopped it.”

“Alex, don’t.” Sam started to stand up, but Alex held out a hand, keeping him down.

“Dude. It’s fine. So really, who’s more responsible for Jo’s death? For your trip to hell? Your soullessness? Purgatory? Leviathans? Is it Dean, who didn’t know? Or me, who could have stopped it but didn’t?”

Osiris stood up. “This isn’t relevant,” he warned.

Alex spun to face him. “Put me on trial,” she demanded.

“Alex!” A very pissed voice sounded to her left, and she turned just in time to see Sam dig his thumb into the palm of her hand. The source of the voice was gone, and she turned her attention back to the matter at hand.

Osiris let out a scornful laugh. “You’re an angel,” he reminded. “How exactly would that work?”

In response, Alex let her angel blade drop into her hands. She threw it to the ground where it clattered at the deity’s feet, keeping her cold gaze on his face. “Put me on trial,” she repeated. “I’m more guilty than Dean is.”

Osiris actually laughed. “I don’t care who’s more guilty,” he finally said. “I just weigh the guilt that’s already there. This is solely about how Dean feels, way deep down. Them’s the breaks.”

“Wait.” Sam stood up. “So if Dean believes he’s innocent, then he is?”

“ ‘If’. A big ‘ if’. Why do I bring up the past? To see if he feels like dog food about it. People _want_ to be judged. They _really_ do. When your heart’s heavy, let me tell you, real punishment’s a mercy.”

“Fine.” Alex straightened her back, wings twitching so the feathers lay flat. “Who’s feels more guilty about it? Him or me?”

Osiris stared at her. “It doesn’t matter,” he finally said. “Dean’s the one on trial now. It’s too late to stop.”

Alex let a low growl rumble in her throat. “ Fine. Just — get on with your next witness.”

Osiris opened his mouth, but Sam beat him to it. “I call Dean to the stand.”

“Oh, you do, now?” The Egyptian god looked faintly amused. “There is an order to this stuff, you know.” After a second’s thought he added, “Okay. I’ll allow it.” He snapped his fingers, and the chains around Dean clattered to the ground.

The Winchester slowly got up and walked over to the chair Sam no longer occupied, leaving Alex to return to the table by herself.

Sam waited until his brother was situated before beginning. “So. Dean. When you came and got me, did you know Jess would die? Or any of it?”

Dean looked confused. “Course not.”

“Right,” Sam agreed. “I mean, how _could_ you? I mean, are you psychic?” Dean smiled in agreement, glancing over at the god. After a second’s pause Sam added, “That’s a question.”

Dean turned back. “Oh. Uh, no. Definitely not physic.”

“Great. So why would you feel guilty about _not_ predicting the future?”

Dean glanced over at Alex, who hid her face, guilt and shame sweeping through her. “Yeah, I guess that doesn’t really make sense.” She felt the eyes leave her, and she turned her head back to watch the proceedings. “Actually, yeah, no, I don’t.” He looked back over at Osiris, and Alex shifted in her chair, no longer sure if Dean was actually convincing himself.

“What about Jo? Did you actually kill her?”

“Uh, no.”

“Isn’t it true that you don’t feel guilty about her? That you’re just . . . sad that she’s dead? That is just . . . blows?”

“Actually . . . maybe, yeah.”

“Mm-mm-mm. I like your style, Sam,” the god praised, although to which level of sincerity Alex couldn’t tell. “Very engaging.”

Sam ignored him . “Dean. Does any of it feel like it’s really . . . on you?”

Osiris leaned forward in this throne, dark eyes scrutinizing Dean as the hunter answer. “Not really.”

“Then is your heart heavy with guilt, or just plain heavy and none of this guy’s business?”

“Uh, what you said — the second thing.”

“Then I rest my case.”

Osiris leaned back in his chair, making it clear to the angel that he had decided Dean’s true guilt. “Very good,” he praised again. “Both of you. Because I really enjoyed that, I’m going to be generous and ask: Dean, do you really want me to call my last witness? Or have we had enough?”

Dean gaze faltered for only the briefest of seconds, and he let out a deep sigh. Sam, however, just looked confused. “What the hell’s he talking about?”

“Enough, Ally McBealing.” Dean looked over at the god. “Just drop the hammer, would ya?” Those words made Alex stand up, the guilt in Dean’s voice enough for even her to hear.

Sam looked down at his brother. “Wait. Dean, he’s giving us more time!”

“It’s not gonna make a difference, Sammy!”

“You two need another moment?” Osiris broke off their bickering. “You done?” When neither answered he pounded his staff against the ground three times, each blow ringing loud and clear. “The court’s reached a verdict,” he announced. “I find you, Dean Winchester, guilty in your heart . . . and sentence you to die. I’d suggest you get your affairs in order quickly.”

“Wait. What?” Alex stalked forward, not truly surprised, but angry nonetheless.

Osiris watched the angel approached, an eyebrow cocked. “You heard me. He’s been judged and found guilty.”

“Yeah, well, judge this.” Alex spun around, hand going out as her grace pulsed out of her. It dragged the angel blade up into her hand, and as she completed her spin she thrust it into the back of the chair where the god had been less than half a second before.

A gust of power knocked her away, and she stumbled back to find Osiris standing to her left. “I wouldn’t try that again if I were you,” he warned. “In fact.” He snapped his fingers, and Alex immediately felt the barn change. She pulled her wings in tight as something pressed down all around her, like she was being dragged underwater. “Perhaps it would be best to keep you here until Dean is taken care of.” He turned to the two hunters. “You two are free to go. I’ll release your friend when his sentence is complete.”

He waved the two brothers away, and Alex flared her wings in outrage, but kept her voice calm. “Go. The sooner you figure out how to kill this son of a bitch, the sooner I’m out of here, okay?” Sam eyes narrowed as he began to protest, but she cut him off. “He’s put up _warding_ , Sam. I’m not going anywhere. And chances are if you don’t leave, he’ll just kill both of you. Trying to help me right here right now isn’t smart.”

“I won’t harm her,” Osiris agreed. “And no trial,” he added with a sweep of his hand. “She believes she’s already suffering her punishment.”

Sam and Dean both looked confused, and Alex rolled her shoulders back. “Guys. Just — just go, okay? I’ll be fine.”

“Tic toc, Dean.”

The two Winchesters exchanged looks, and Alex flared out her wings, anger fueling her grace, and lighting flashed in the sky. “Go!”

Sam and Dean hurried away. Alex looked around the barn, and waited until the Impala roared to life before she spoke. “Nice set up,” she began, starting light conversation. “Who’s your decorator?”

“I don’t get many angels my way,” Osiris watched the angel curiously. “And correct me if I’m wrong, but your . . . kind usually don’t travel alone.”

“Eh. I’m in-between mates right now.” Alex walked over to the golden throne and pulled out her angel blade before she sat down, crossing one leg over the other casually. She balanced the weapon in one hand, making sure the god knew to keep his distance. The warding were suppressing her grace, forcing it to stay inside her body, so fighting wasn’t currently an option.

“Yes, I know.” When Alex looked confused, Osiris approached. “Word’s gotten around that there’s an angel with two hunters. The Winchesters. A . . . friend told me that she had lost her mate.”

Alex snorted, slouching in her seat to get comfortable. “You know, I didn’t take you pagans as the gossiping type. You guys stay in contact much?” Osiris didn’t answer, and she let out a breath. “Oh. So. Your friend is . . .”

“Why does it matter to you?”

“Just curious. It’s good to know who’s keeping tabs on me.” Alex looked around as if a thought had just struck her. “What kind of warding did you put up anyways? I don’t like it.”

Osiris ignored her last question. “Loki told me.”

A long pause. Then, “Oh.” Alex stood up, wings twitched in curiosity. “He’s still kicking.”

“You know him.”

“We’re acquaintances.” Alex fell silent, and the conversation died. She looked around the building, and when she turned her gaze back to what was in front of her, she frowned. “Hey!” She jumped to her feet, wings flaring out in frustration to find that she was alone. “Great. Great!”

She hurried over to the barn door, trying to push her way through the warding. But it was like a steel wall, and she recoiled angrily. “Gabriel!” she yelled, stomping back into the middle of the room. “Get your ass down here and break the sigils.”

Nothing.

Alex put her hands on her hips. “I know you’re keeping tabs on me, dude. So . . . any minute now.” Still there was nothing, and she threw her hands up in frustration. “The least you could do is answer me,” she muttered.

 

 **T** he purring of an engine had Alex looking up. The fire pit had long since lost its flames, but the light from the windows high above no longer necessitated their existence. The young angel slowly stood up, futilely pushing her grace against the warding. “Hello?”

“Alex? Are you still there?”

“Dean.” Alex hurried towards the barn door. “You’re alive.”

“Yeah. We took care of Osiris.” That was Sam, and Alex’s eyes closed in relief. “Are you still stuck in there?”

“Uh, yeah. You’re gonna have to break the sigils. I don’t know where they are.”

“Give us a minute.” The barn door slid open and Dean stepped through. “I’ll check in here,” he called to his brother before hurrying farther into the barn.

“What happened?” Alex hurried after him, head tipped in confusion. “What killed him?”

“Uh, he didn’t die, per say.” Dean stopped in the middle of the ‘courtroom,’ gaze flitting around the walls. “Bobby found something that would put him to sleep for a couple thousand years. Uh, a ram’s horn.”

“Ram’s horn. Huh. Uh, there’s nothing in here, man. I’ve searched the entire place up and down — oh.” The pressure that had been itching at her all night suddenly lifted, and Alex looked about. “Sam found it.” She followed Dean back out to the car. “So . . .”

“Back to the hotel,” Dean grumbled. “I feel like I haven’t slept in days. We’ll head back up to Bobby’s in the morning.”

Alex snorted in amusement, but didn’t protest. “I’m fine with that. Sam?” She turned to the hunter as he walked towards them. “Sleep and then driving?”

“Yeah, sure. Whatever works.”

 

 **“W** hat the _hell_ were you thinking?”

Alex spun around in confusion, eyes narrowing at the sight of Lucifer. “Excuse me? You want to try that again?” She glanced towards Sam, who was sitting at the table, just as confused as she was. Dean was on the bed behind her; he was out like a light, but had only been like that for a minute or two. Obvious that was what Lucifer had been waiting for.

“I said, what do you think you were doing?” The archangel stalked closer, fire dancing in his eyes, and Alex straightened her back to try to equal the height between them. “Or maybe I just imagined the part where you offered to die in Dean’s place.”

The young angel’s wings flared out in anger. “ _That’s_ what this is about? Why the fuck does it matter to you anyways? You’re not _real_.”

“I _care_ because your mine.” The archangel’s voice grew quiet, and Alex suppressed a shiver. Normally she could deal with Lucifer, but her courage fled whenever his quiet, cold anger took over. “Mine to care about, mine to protect. And you just offered to die. Do you see my problem?” Sam stood up, ready to defend her, but Lucifer held out a hand, silencing the Winchester before he could even begin. “This isn’t your fight, Samuel.”

Alex ran a hand through her hair, letting out a soft breath. “Lucifer. I’m not _anyone’s_.”

The archangel’s gaze softened slightly, and he stepped forward, cutting the distance between them in half. “Of course you’re not, _le mohoath,_ ” he promised smoothly. “You’re your own angel.” His voice hardened. “Although the fact that you almost died makes me wonder if you’re capable of that responsibility.”

“You know what? That’s it. I’m taking a walk.” Alex stalked past the archangel and threw open the door. “Call me when he’s gone. I’ll grab breakfast.”

“Alex.” Lucifer’s voice grew dark. “Don’t walk away from me. Alex —”

Alex slammed the door, leaving the archangel behind.


	25. Shut Up, Dr. Phil

_**T** he room was dark, lit only by the moonlight from high above. Alex was standing in front of Castiel, Dean and Bobby on either side of her. Her wings tremored in relief at the sight of her mate, and she reached out to steady him._

_“I can’t fight them!” Castiel’s grace pulled back, and Alex could physically feel the fight within the angel. “Run!” Castiel’s vessel began to convulse, limbs jerking as the supernatural creatures battled for control._

_“Go!” Dean shoved Bobby and Alex ahead of them. “Go find Sam. Go get Sam!”_

_“Too late.”_

_Alex’s grace ran cold at the voice. It wasn’t Castiel’s — it wasn’t deep or kind. It was excited, crazed. She spun around to see Castiel’s vessel standing there, wings gone. Leviathans. They tipped their head, and Alex saw black flow through their veins, reaching up towards their face._

_She stepped back, ready to flee, but not willing to leave her mate. “Cas . . .” she began._

_“Cas is dead.” The Leviathans approached, excitement in their eyes, and Alex stepped back again. “But we know all about you.”_

_The wall hit Alex’s wings, and she stopped, teeth clenched to stop her jaw from shaking. “Bite me,” she weakly challenged._

_The gleam in their eyes made her immediately regret that decision. “Mm. Don’t mind if I do.” Suddenly the Leviathans stopped. They jerked once, then twice, and Alex watched in fear as they convulsed again. She felt a sudden rush of grace through the air, pulsing through the vessel, weak but unmistakably Cas. She swallowed. “Cas._ Please _.”_

 

 **A** lex jerked awake, wings flaring out in alarm. She clutched at her chest, heart pounding with fear and grief. “Cas,” she whispered as she stretched her grace out, hopelessly searching for her angel. Sam and Dean were fast asleep, the youngest Winchester sprawled out beside her, and Alex threw back the covers, moving to the other side of the motel room, separated by a thin wall. She pulled the unopened bottle of whiskey out of the fridge and moved to the couch. With a resigned sigh, she cracked open the bottle and took a long drink. 

 

 **T** he sun was barely above the horizon when one of the Winchesters stirred. Alex didn’t move from where she was sitting, but instead clicked on the next episode to _Lost_. She heard a small knock on the wall, and she looked up to see Sam leaning against the archway. “I hope Jacob somehow smites them all,” she grumbled. “Locke’s a jerk.”

Sam cocked an eyebrow, but didn’t push her strange commentary. “You might want to save some of that for Dean,” he suggested instead, motioning to the nearly empty bottle of whiskey. 

Alex grabbed it by the neck and took another long sip. “Dean can suck my dick,” she muttered. 

The Winchester let out an amused noise. “It’s gonna be one of those days,” he sighed under his breath, stepping away from the wall. “I’m going to go for a run, okay? Try and sober up before I get back.”

“Bite me, Winchester.” Alex pulled back on her headphones, blocking out Sam’s response. 

 

Dean awoke half an hour later. Alex looked up to see him sit down at the kitchen table, running a hand through his messy bed-hair. “Morning,” he grumbled out. Alex answered with a grunt, returning her attention to her show. 

She vaguely heard Dean get dressed, finishing off the whiskey before he could come back and take it from her. She looked up when she heard the fridge open, and a second later Dean was peering back into the room. His gaze immediately went to the empty bottle. “You drunk that entire thing?” 

Alex paused her show. “Takes a lot to get an angel drunk,” she muttered, pulling the blanket she had curled up in tighter around her.

“Are you drunk yet?” 

“No.” 

 

“Somebody better be chasing you.” 

Alex looked up to see Sam standing in the archway, sweating and out of breath. “It’s good for you,” he defended against his brother.

Dean was sitting at the kitchen table, his laptop out and the other bottle of whiskey beside him. It had been less than half-full last night, but Dean had already finished it off. Alex turned back to her show, pretending to be no longer interested in their conversation. “No,” Dean retorted. “No, it’s not good for you. Look at you. You’re a mess and you stink.” Sam pulled the hem of his sweatshirt up to sniff at it while Dean continued. “Well, while you were out being Lance Armstrong —”

“That would be biking.” The door to the mini fridge creaked open as Sam reached in for a drink.

“—I was working. You ever heard of a town called Prosperity, Indiana?” 

“Has anybody?” 

Dean looked up. “Hey. Is there another one of those in there?” 

Sam let out an amused noise. “Since when do you drink Gatorade?” 

“Not for me. For her.” Out of the corner of her eye, Alex saw both Winchesters turn her way. She kept her gaze on the screen, pretending that she hadn’t heard them. “She’s dropping again, man, and I don’t know what triggered it.” 

“Yeah, I noticed. I’ll talk to her.” The fridge cracked open again as Sam continued. “So what about this town?” 

“Two of their fine citizens died over the past few days. Uh, this one chick roasted under one of those beehive hair dryers at a salon, and the other guy boiled in a hot tub.”

“You don’t see that a lot,” Sam agreed. Footsteps approached, and Alex looked up at the tall Winchester. “Here.” He held out a yellow sports drink.

Alex shook her head. “Want blue.” She pointed to the other one, and Sam handed it to her. He pulled his earbuds away from his neck as he turned back to Dean. Instead of approaching, however, he just sat down on the edge of the coffee table. “You stink,” Alex muttered, blowing air out of her nose for emphasis. 

Sam stood back up. “Sounds like it’s worth checking out,” he agreed before walking over to the other side of the room. He paused when Dean finished off the whiskey in his glass. “You know, one more thing. What’s going on with you?” 

Alex cranked up the volume and tuned them out. 

 

 **S** omeone approached, and Alex looked up. Sam sat down on the coffee table in front of her, and the angel reluctantly pulled out her earbuds. She cocked her eyebrows, waiting for him to start.

Sam ran a hand through his hair, still damp from the shower. “You okay?” 

“I’m fine.” 

The Winchester picked up the blue sports drink off of the table and held it out. “You really should drink this,” he insisted. “Might help you feel better.” When Alex didn’t respond, he sighed. “Dean’s loading up the car. You coming with?”

“Yeah, I’ll come.”

A short, empty pause. “You want to talk about what’s going on?” 

Alex snapped her laptop closed and stood up. “Nope.” She took the Gatorade from Sam’s hand and walked away. 

 

**Prosperity, Indiana**

**March 30, 2012**

**E** ight hours later they pulled up in front of a crappy motel in the middle of town. Alex threw open the car door, still in a sour mood, but feeling better than she had that morning. “I want my own room,” she announced as she slammed the door behind her. 

Even though she couldn’t see it, she knew the brother’s exchanged looks, a silent conversation passing between them. “Yeah, not happening,” Dean finally said, and Alex turned in time to see Sam shoot his brother a look, one that clearly said he wasn’t please about Dean’s choice of words, even if he agreed with him. “Not after this morning. You’re staying with us.” He walked off to the motel office before Alex could respond, leaving her to shot a furious glare in his direction. 

“We’re just worried,” Sam slowly began. “Especially when you get like that, Pip. If you want to talk about it—”

“How’s Satan?” Alex cut him off. “I haven’t seen him since Michigan. He gone?”

Sam studied her a moment before reluctantly giving in to the new topic. “He leaves when you show up. I think he’s still sulking.”

“But he ’s not causing you any problems, right?”

The Winchester shrugged. “He’s annoying,” he admitted. “I just ignore him. At least when you’re around you become the focus of attention.”

“Hm. Well, glad I’m helping.” Alex pulled her duffle bag out of the trunk before circling around the Impala, stopping as Dean returned with the keys to their room. 

“Get changed,” he announced. “We’ve still got time to check out the crime scene and do a little canvassing.” He accepted his bag from Sam and unlocked the door. “Thinking we should split up to cover more ground.”

“Ew.” Alex looked around the dingy motel room. “Uh, dibs on the morgue,” she quickly added, tossing her bag onto the nearest bed. 

“I’ll take the salon,” Dean volunteered. “You want to talk to the family, Sammy?”

“Uh, sure. That’s fine.”

 

 **T** en minutes later she was standing in the morgue, tucking her badge back into her pocket. The secretary waved her down the hallway, and Alex followed the directions, pushing her way through the stainless steel doors to see the doctor and his assistants. “Bartowski, FBI.” She held up her badge only briefly. “I was called in about the expiry of a Ms. Wendy Goodson?” 

“Uh, yeah. This is her right now.” The eldest man motioned down to the corpse on the stainless steel table. “I didn’t receive any call . . .”

Alex just shrugged. “Things have been rather hectic. New operating system. I can give you my superior’s number if you wish.”

The man shook his head. “That’s alright. I’m Dr. Lewis.” He motioned to his assistant. “This is Foreman.”

“Nice to meet you.” Alex crossed the linoleum floor. “So. What can you tell me about Ms. Goodson?” She studied the body below her, the twitching of her wings her only reaction. The victim’s face was charred and burned, and large strands of hair were hanging from her scalp, chucks of flesh still on the ends. 

“Well, she was electrocuted.”

Alex nodded, inhaling slightly. The body was definitely emanating that unforgettable oder; a mix between raw flesh and cooked pork. “By what?” 

The two men exchanged looks. “Have you been to the crime scene yet?” Foreman eventually asked.  
 “My partner’s there right now,” Alex promised. “Why?” 

“Well, we’re not really sure how . . . but it was by one of those hair dryers. The ones that go over your head?” Dr. Lewis brought his hands down around his head for emphasis, and Alex nodded. “That seems to be the cause of death. It fried her brain stem.”

“Huh.” Alex studied the body for another, long second. “Anything else you can tell me? Anything strange?” She already had a suspicion about what they were dealing with, but was careful to cover all possibilities. “Any relations to, uh, a Carl Dunlop?” 

Dr. Lewis looked surprised. “Carl? No. Not that I know of. Why do you ask?”

“Thank you for your time.” Alex dipped her head and made her way out of the morgue. She pulled out her phone and dialed Sam’s number. It rang twice before answering. “Find anything?” 

“The sister knows nothing.” The youngest Winchester’s voice was filled with exasperation. “Apparently everyone loved Wendy.”

“Well apparently not,” Alex retorted. Then she sighed. “So we have nothing. Have you heard from Dean?” 

“I was just about to call him. Need us to pick you up?”

The young angel looked both ways before crossing the street. “No thanks. I’m close enough. See you soon?” 

“Yeah. Uh . . . how does pizza for dinner sound? Might make you feel better.”

Alex let out a small smile. “I’m fine, Sam. But that’d be great. Thanks.” She hung up and shoved her phone back into her pocket before hurrying down the sidewalk. 

 

 **I** t was the next morning when Dean got the call. Alex watched as he went to roughly shake his brother awake. “Rise and shine, Sammy. Got another one.”

He shook Sam again, who kicked out with his leg in protest. It caught Dean in the kneecap, who grunted in pain before grabbing hold of his brother’s foot and giving it a tug. It pulled Sam halfway out of bed, and the young Winchester was forced to get up. “You’re an ass,” he muttered. 

 “And we have a dead body. Get up.” Dean shed his thin t-shirt and chucked it at his brother. It hit Sam squarely in the back, who protested with several muttered curses. Dean chuckled and pulled on his oxford, slowly buttoning it up as he glanced at Alex. “You coming?”

“Yeah.” Alex looked down at her cold, leftover pizza that had become her breakfast. “One minute. Where are we going?”

“Construction site across town. Dude got nailed.” Seeing how Alex raised an eyebrow he just grinned. “You’ll see. Get dressed.”

Alex did, and within fifteen minutes they were crossing the gravel road to where three police cars sat, their red and blue lights still flashing. All three showed their IDs to the officers in front of them before Dean took the lead. 

“I’ll go see if the cameras caught anything.” Sam motioned upwards to the camera on the small building to their left. He hurried away before Dean could agree. 

Alex studied their surroundings closely, taking in the large, black truck and the blue portable toilet, where several medical officers stood deep in conversation. “I’ll get the 411 on the vic,” she added before moving away. She pulled out her badge as she approached the three men. “Agent Bartowski, FBI. What’s going on?” 

“Man’s name was Dewey Stevens, owner of Dewey Steven’s Construction.” The tallest man made a vague gesture towards the construction area behind him. “Crew member found him this morning. Time of death’s estimated to be sometime yesterday after the site was shut down.”

“How’d he die?” Alex ran an eye over the bloody corpse slumped on the toilet, taking in the large nails still embedded deep in the flesh. 

“Nail gun. Cops are still trying to figure out where that bastard plugged it in. Can’t confirm cause of death without an autopsy, but I’m willing to bet it was the two nails to the eyes.”

The young angel grunted in agreement. “That would do it. Can I —”

“Of course.” The man motioned his crew away, leaving Alex alone the body. She circled the porta potty, taking in the bloodied holes where the nails had pierce the tough plastic. She stopped back in front of the body, eyes counting up the bloodspots. There had to be close to twenty puncture wounds.

“Anything interesting?” 

Alex’s wings flicked in acknowledgement of Dean Winchester. “He got shot with a nail gun, and the cops have no idea where the perp plugged it in. It’s bloody with a side of weird.” 

“Huh. Out of the way.” Dean nudged her aside, and Alex stepped back to let the elder hunter have a look. He peered inside before he paused. Crouching down, he ran fingers behind the edge of the door. “Look at this.” He turned on his heels to hold up a small gold coin. “Same kind of thing I found at the salon.”

“You found something at the salon?” Alex blinked in confusion. “You didn’t tell me that?”

The Winchester shrugged. “Me and Sam talked about it after you went to sleep.” He held it out, and Alex took it in her palm. “Any ideas?”

Alex shook her head, tracing her fingers over the golden engravings. “It’s old,” she finally said. “Nothing I’ve seen before.” Her hand closed around the coin. “But if there was one just like this at the other crime scene, my bet’s on witches.”

“My thoughts exactly.” Dean stood up. “Let’s go find Sam.” He led the way into the small portable office building at the top of the small hill. Sam was sitting at a desk, hazel eyes trained solely on the computer screen. “So, another victim everybody likes,” Dean began, walking over to his brother. 

“Not everybody.”

“Another psychically impossible death,” Dean continued. He walked over to the window beside Sam, looking out onto the crime scene. “You got any ideas?” 

“Cirque du Soleil?” 

“Oh, I found another one of those, uh, coin things.” Dean gestured to Alex, who held out her palm for the youngest Winchester to see. “Just like at the, uh, the hair-dryer slash brain-roast.” 

Sam took the coin from Alex as he added, “And I found a connection with all the vics. Um, these email logs show Wendy, the real estate chick, and Carl, the architect, and this Dewey guy were all working on a shopping center project.”

“So, everybody working on the project has died?”

“Well, not yet. They were working with a developer, a guy named Don Stark.” 

“Don Stark?” Den turned from the window. “Why does that name sound familiar?”

Alex shrugged. “Iron Man?” she offered helpfully. “I dunno. _I’ve_ never heard of him.” She paused as voice momentarily approached before fading away. “Listen. You two go talk to Stark, and I’ll take a walk through town, see if I can pick up anything witchy on my angel radar. Otherwise I’ll just head back to the motel and see what I can dig up on that coin.” 

Dean and Sam exchanged looks before Dean nodded. “Yeah. Sounds like a good plan.” Sam stood up as Dean led the way over to the door. “We’ll drop you off at the diner by the motel, okay? Call if you pick up anything suspicious.” 

“Yeah.” Alex followed him out to the Impala. With one last glance at the crime scene, she slid into the backseat. 

 

 **H** er phone rang, startling Alex out of her thoughts. Her ankle knocked against the table leg and she cursed at the sharp twinge of pain before fumbling for her phone. “This better be important.”

“How fast can you get to 2354 Birch Road? Apartment 117.” 

“Sam? What’s going on?” 

“Well, we found the witch and her shrine, and figured out who the next victim’s going to be. It’s not to far from the motel. Five minutes if you run.”

“Who’s the victim?” Alex pressed, chair legs squealing against the linoleum floor as she stood up. “Is it this Don guy?”

“Nope. Her name’s Jenny Klein. Don’s secretary. The witch . . . well, she’s his wife. Listen. Get there as soon as possible okay?”

“Yeah. I’m leaving right now.” Alex glanced at her shoes on the ground before adding, “See you soon.” She hung up before Sam answered, shoving her phone into her pocket and pulling on her tennis shoes. She glanced at her jacket on the bed before deeming it warm enough to go without. After locking the door behind her she turned the street and broke into a jog. 

 

 **I** t wasn’t difficult to find the address Sam had given her, and she turned down the street just as the Impala pulled up. The two Winchesters jumped out of the car and hurried into the apartment building, and Alex ran after them, breaking into a full speed run. She threw open the door and hurried up the stairs, catching up to Sam just as Dean kicked down the door to one of the rooms. 

A young woman was bent over the sink, blood spilling from her mouth. Alex stopped in shock as the two brothers rushed forward, wings pulling in close in horror. It lasted only a second before she reined in her emotions, pulsing her grace out into the room. 

“Find the coin! Now!” Dean put his arms around the woman’s shoulders as Sam desperately searched the small kitchen unit. The woman gasped for air, but could only choke on the acrid blood. 

Alex’s grace flooded through the apartment, pulling back when she felt the darkness, the unmistakable tang of sorcery; it prickled against her grace like pins and needles. Alex ran over to the cabinets, futilely trying to reach the top of the shelves. “Sam!” she finally snapped, giving up. “It’s up there! I can’t reach it!” She moved aside as Sam reached up, fingers easily reaching over the lip of the cupboards. 

He pulled back, a gold coin his hand and dropped it on the table. “Get back,” he instructed, drawing his gun. He pulled the trigger and a deafening shot rang through the room, followed by the clinking as the mutilated coin fell to the ground followed by the bounce of the bullet across the counter. 

The woman drew in a deep breath, vomiting up one last mouthful of blood. She sunk to the ground, supported only by Dean’s arms. “Help me get her to the couch,” Dean grunted, pulling her back up. “Hang on, Jenny.”

He and Sam moved her over to the white couch while Alex retrieved the disfigured token. Her attention turned to the fallen cupcake on the ground and she stooped to pick it up, disgusted to see what was inside. “Dude. That’s nasty.” She stood back up and placed the cupcake on the counter. It was stained with blood, and in the center sat a small, four chambered heart with a bitesized chunk missing. She held it out so the Winchesters could see. 

“There were tiny beating hearts in my cupcakes.” Jenny’s quiet voice has Alex looking up, an eyebrow cocked. “There were tiny beating hearts in my cupcakes, hearts in my cupcakes!” Her voice grew into hysteria as she stared blankly at the wall. “That’s never happened before! Hearts in my cupcakes!”

“Should I slug her?” Dean asked quietly, and Alex snorted in amusement. 

Sam just shook his head. “Give her a second.”

At the sounds of their voices Jenny looked over at them. “Oh my God. What happened to me?” 

“You were hexed.” 

“Hexed?” the woman repeated, wide blue eyes staring at Sam. “Who are you people? W-What the hell do I do?”

“What you’re gonna do is go in there and pack a bag, you get in your car, and you go.” Dean took an empathetic step towards her, and Jenny’s gaze swung over to him, confusion dancing across her face. 

“Go where?” 

“It doesn’t matter. Look, 500 or 600 miles ought to do it. You got someone real powerful real pissed, and they’re trying to get rid of you. In like with that, you might want to cool things with Don Stark.”

“Don Stark?” Jenny’s confusion increased tenfold. “What are you talking about?” 

“You and Don.” Dean took over the explanation. “You know.”

“ ‘You know?’ ” A pause. “There’s no ‘you know.’ ”

“No?” 

“Don Stark is my _boss_. That’s it. He’s married, for God’s sake.” 

Dean and Sam exchanged looks. “Yeah, well . . .”

“Me and Don Stark,” Jenny repeated. “Ew.” 

“Uh, maybe we should going,” Alex finally said. “I mean I’m glad Jenny’s safe and all, but we’ve got things to do.”

“Uh, yeah.” Dean walked over to the couch, placing his hands on his back as he glanced over at Jenny. “Get out of town as soon as possible, huh? They won’t realize you’re not dead for a while; that gives you a good head start. Uh,” He dug into his suit pocket before pulling out his card. “If there’s anything — _anything_ — give me or him a call, okay? We’re just a few blocks down.” 

“Uh, okay . . . thanks.” 

Deciding the conversation was over, Alex led the way out of the broken door. 

 

 **T** he room was dark when Alex jerked awake, wings flaring out in surprise. She blinked several times, waiting for her eyes to adjust before she looked around desperately, hands feeling over the sheets around her. “Cas?” Not finding what she was looking for, she began to search more vigorously, running her hands over every inch of the bed. She leaned over to check the floor and then hurried over to her bag, digging through its contents, sending clothes falling to the floor. 

“Alex?” Sam’s groggy voice had her looking up in alarm. “What are you doing?”

“It’s not here.” Alex looked desperately over at the hunter. “I —” She thought hard. “I left it at Bobby’s. Sam, it’s not _here_.”

Sam was silent for a moment as his brain groggily processed her words. “Where’s Dean?” 

“He’s not back yet.” Alex hurried over Sam’s bed, kneeling on the empty side. “We need to go back, Sam. I _need_ it.”

“Come ‘ere.” Sam peeled back the covers to Alex could slide underneath. “We’ll go back for, uh . . . for _it_ when we finish up this case, okay? You can wait.”

Alex curled up next to Sam, pressing her back into his side, her trembling wings calming at the warm, solid presence. “I miss him,” she whispered. “I need him, Sam.”

In response a hand came to rest on her side, and Alex forced her eyes closed. 

 

 **“I** t’s already nine.” 

Alex rolled over with a groan, stirred from her half-conscious state. There was something next to her, its warmth sharply contrasting the cold outside air. She burrowed in deeper with a muffled grunt. 

The warmth pulled away, and Alex blindly chased after it, only sitting up at the voice’s next words. “Aww. You know, you two are cute together.” Lucifer sat on the other bed, feet crossed under him and head resting in his hands. Alex yawned, falling back down onto the bed and curling up around Sam. She vaguely remembered crawling into this bed late last night, but now that she was here, she wasn’t getting up any time soon. “It’s no wonder Samuel was destined to be my vessel.”

Sam shifted again, and Alex willed him not wake. “Let him sleep,” she muttered, closing her eyes. Sam shifted a third time, this time more forcefully, and Alex sat up reluctantly admitting that she wasn’t going to sleep anymore. “You’re an ass,” she muttered to the devil. 

Lucifer looked hurt, although Alex couldn’t tell if it was genuine or in jest. Sam’s eyes flickered open, and then Lucifer disappeared. The youngest Winchester sat up, blinking in confusion. “Was, uh . . .”

Alex shrugged. “Doesn’t matter.” She reluctantly threw back the covers, wincing as her bare feet touched the ratty, old carpet. “Dean still not back?” 

“Looks like.” Sam got up as well and disappeared into the bathroom. 

“You feel it, don’t you?” Lucifer appeared behind her, voice soft with an almost thoughtful tone. “The pull towards Sam?” 

“You’re getting involved in my love life now, huh?” Alex didn’t turn around, and the archangel stepped forward to stand beside her. “And how exactly are you doing this?” she added after a second’s thought. “I can only see what Sam sees, so . . .”

The archangel let out a small grin, apparently quite glad she had asked. “Well,” he began, “I’m, already in you, and your link with Sam, this mental one . . . it’s something like a bridge. Letting me walk from his mind . . . to yours.” Lucifer accentuated his words by walking his fingers across the empty space in front of them. Then his voice grew more serious as his form flickered. “It’s exhausting, unfortunately, projecting myself like this. And unfortunately you need to be within ten feet of that —”

“You’re not _real_ ,” Alex snapped, spinning to face him. 

The archangel blinked, confused. “Of course I’m real. Alex, I’ve never lied to you.”

“You lied to Sam. A lot.” 

Lucifer’s face darkened. “Sam’s deserves what he’s getting,” he insisted. “You —”

The young angel cut him off. “Because he threw you back into the pit? Right, because I had nothing to do with that. It’s not like I told you Cas would totally die and you’d win —”

“You never said I’d win,” the archangel gently reminded. “You said Michael wouldn’t win. You didn’t lie to me, Alex, and I haven’t lied to you.” He flickered slightly, and something flashed through his eyes, an emotion gone too fast for Alex to read. “I can’t stay much longer, _le mohoath_. But it’s not Sam you’re pulled—” 

Then the archangel was gone, and Alex looked around. “Luce?” She turned in a small circle, disappointed and curious as to what he was going to say. “Lucifer? Dude, no. You did _not_ just show up after a week for _that!_ You ass—”

Sam stuck his head out of the bathroom. “Who are you talking to?” 

“Uh . . . no one? I . . . it’s angel . . . stuff.”

Sam studied her for a second before shrugging. “Whatever. I’m gonna take a shower. Need the bathroom?” When Alex shook her head head added, “See if Dean’s coming back soon, okay? And tell him to bring something to eat,” Then he disappeared back into the bathroom. 

Alex sighed, but did as the as the Winchester asked. She picked up her phone off of the nightstand and dialed Dean’s number. It rang once, then twice, before groggy voice answered. “What?” 

“Sam wants to know when you’re coming back. And he wants you to bring breakfast.” 

Dean groaned, and Alex heard a mattress squeak. “Yeah, sorry. Overslept. I’ll, uh, I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. Uh, I got to go.”

“Okie dokie. Bring something good to eat—” Alex cut off when she realized the line was dead. “Whatever.” 

 

 **D** ean came back fifteen minutes later as promised. “I got grub,” he announced as he dropped the fast food bags on the counter. “Come and get it.”

Alex wrinkled her nose. “Dude, did you even shower before you came back? You stink of sex.” She looked over at Sam, waiting for him to back her up. 

Dean looked offended. “I took a shower,” he insisted. 

“Take another one.” 

Sam glanced at his brother as he walked over to the table. “Take another,” he advised, the slight wrinkling of his nose the only sign of his distaste. 

Dean shrugged. “Whatever.” He brushed past Alex on his way to the bathroom, grabbing his bag on the way past. The door slammed shut, and Alex cocked an eyebrow after him. 

Sam shrugged. “Hungry?” 

“Barely.” Alex stuck out her tongue, pulling it back in as she smiled over at Sam. She stuck her hands in her pockets and made her way over to him as the water started running in the next room. “So . . . Luce giving you any problems recently? It’s weird for him to stay away this long.” 

Sam shrugged as he opened one of the bags. “I don’t know. Like I said, he kind of stays away whenever you’re around. Still sulking or something.”

Alex snorted. “Yeah, well, serves him right.” 

“What are you mad at him for?” Sam asked suddenly, something akin to amusement on his face. “The part where he called you his?” Alex snorted again, this time much harder, and he added, “I’m just curious.”

Alex shrugged, grey eyes running over the hunter’s face. “You know me,” she finally said. “What do you think?” She pulled the McDonald’s bag close and fished on the hash browns, giving the hunter time to ponder but not expecting him to answer. After a few seconds she added, “I haven’t changed much since, ya know, Titanic-me. Top in the streets, bottom in the sheets.” She looked up in time to see the blood flush Sam’s face and she grinned. “You _still_ get embarrassed by that,” she teased before unwrapping a hash brown to hide her own face.

Sam didn’t answer, but his uncomfortableness still prickled in the air. 

With a sigh, the angel looked back up with a sigh. “Fine. You want to know why I’m pissed?” she finally said. “Yeah, the possessiveness by itself doesn’t piss me off. Whether that’s me or this damn angel thing I don’t know. Maybe both. But I’m not _his_. I . . . no. Not with Lucifer.” She shook her head, but when she looked up to meet Sam’s eyes something in her grace stirred. The angel stubbornly shoved it away. “That’s why I’m pissed at him. I’m not his ‘responsibility.’ I can do whatever the hell I want, and I sure as hell don’t need his permission.”

Sam looked away, and Alex let the conversation die. 

 

 **“T** his is stupid.” Alex leaned her forehead against the glass, staring out at the Prosperity Town Hall. A large white banner hung high above the doors, announcing the art auction of Maggie Stark, Don husband and powerful witch. “Just . . . let me go in and get a read on everything. They won’t recognize me and I’m an angel.” She leaned over the front seat, a pout on her lips. “Please? We’ve been here _forever._ ” 

Dean rolled his eyes, slumping even more in his seat. “Sam, just let her go. At least we’ll get some peace.” 

His eyes drifted closed, and Alex rested her chin on his shoulder. “Please, Sam?” she added, looking over at the hunter. “I’ll be quiet. I’ll be quick. In and out. They won’t see a thing.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Fine,” he finally relented. “Whatever. But if you screw up, you’ll blow this entire case.”

“I won’t let that happen.” Alex slid out of the Impala and hurried across the street. She followed the concrete path up to the front double doors. She pushed them open and turned right down a long hallway, not wanting to walk straight into the main room that had laid ahead. She slowly walked down the white halls, grace flickering ahead of her to see what lay beyond. People were bustling through that large room that stood perpendicular to her, and Alex strolled through a side door, head held high in an attempt to look as if she was where she was suppose to be. Two woman stood directly in front of her; Alex recognized the shorter of the two as Maggie Stark from some of the newspaper photos. The woman brushed her wavy blonde hair out of her face, and the air tingled as she spoke, voice quiet. “No, no. You think I want you to stand by and watch him make a fool of me? I love you for what you’ve done.”

The taller dark-haired woman let out a small smile. “I love you, too.” 

“No no!” Maggie suddenly stepped past her, the tingling in the air growing as her frustration did. “The still-life doesn’t go there!” She walked off, and Alex pressed herself against the wall as the witch passed. She was about to make for the door when her grace did one last sweep of the room. The angel froze. 

“Don.” 

“Where’s my wife?” 

“You mean the one who’s divorcing you?” 

Alex rolled her eyes at the woman’s tone, peering around the wall to see the brunette confronting Don Stark. He was shorter than she had expected, but his pale eyes sparkled with controlled annoyance. “Sue,” he began, “I know you can hardly wait until I’m out of the picture, and I know it’s been a thrill whispering lies into Maggie’s ear —”

“Oh, but they weren’t lies, were they, Don?” Maggie cut her husband off, and Alex glanced towards the door, part of her not caring about their marital gossip, but some of her quite curious.

“I made one mistake,” Don insisted. “One.” 

“I sincerely doubt that,” the brunette named Sue snapped.

Don’s voice, however, remained calm. “This is between Maggie and me. It has nothing to do with you.” 

“What do you want, Don?” 

“I want to speak with you.” 

A pause, and then footsteps approached. Sue appeared in front of Alex, head tipping at the sight of the young angel. “Uh . . . can I help you?”

Alex blinked, buying herself time before responding. “Listen, man, I’m just in charge of table decorations, okay?” She glanced over at the linen-covered tables. “And general . . . stuff.”

Sue nodded. “Flowers are in the front. I’ll go grab them.” 

“Yeah. You do that.” Alex watched as the woman hurried off before turning her attention back to the Starks. The energy coming from them was unmistakable, and she scratched her head in confusion at the thought of there being _two_ witches.

“— the problem, Don.” Maggie was saying. “So, excuse me. I have a charity event to arrange.”

“Two FBI agents came by asking questions.”

“Hunters, sweetheart.” Maggie’s voice grew very quiet. “I don’t think they’re alone, either. There’s something else in this town . . .”

Alex took took that as her cue to leave. 

She hurried out of the town hall and jumped into the Impala. “We . . . we have a small problem,” she said. “Two, actually. Drive.” 

 

 **“T** he hell did you do?” Dean glared down at the young angel, who narrowed her eyes in protest. 

“I didn’t _do_ anything,” she snapped, shifting in the wooden chair. “How was I suppose to know these were powerful witches? They've got more juice than any other witch we’ve gone up against — well, apart from Samhain.” She paused, trying to think back to the last witch case she had. “Okay, fine. I’ve only been on two witch cases. So they’re a hell of a lot more powerful than Gary.” 

“G-Gary?” Dean looked over at his brother for support, who shrugged. 

“Yeah, uh, he was that kid who switched brains with me.” Sam stood up from where he was seated on the bed. “Right?” 

“Yeah. I mean, he wasn’t really powerful, but I — I’ve never met a witch as an angel, okay? I don’t know how they . . . feel. I just don’t like the feel of these witches.”

“Wait wait wait.” Sam took a step closer, leaving Alex to tip her head back even further to maintain eye contact. “ ‘Witches’? As in plural?” 

“Yeah. As in your fun-loving Don is a fucking witch. I don’t know what we’re in the middle of, but I don’t like it.” 

The two Winchesters exchanged looks before Dean nodded. “I, I guess I’ll give Bobby another call. See if he’s got anything more on a spell to stop them.” He pulled out his phone and walked out the motel door, leaving Alex glaring after him. 

With a snort, she stood up, shoulders rolling back as she shook her wings out. “Idiot. I didn’t screw up.” She raised an eyebrow up at Sam, but he didn’t look at her. 

Dean came back in, looking about. _Pen_ , he mouthed, pulling out a pad of the motel paper. Sam tossed him one, and Dean scribbled something down. “Uh huh, uh, what was that last one? Right. Uh-huh. I’ll remember. No, I don’t need to write it down. It’s fine. Thanks, Bobby.” He hung up the phone and held out the list. “Here. He says this should put them down well enough.”

Sam took the piece of paper. “Chilled chicken feet?” 

“Fun, I know. You get that. I’ve got everything else in the trunk.” Dean tossed the Impala’s keys to Sam. “Try the deli down the street.”

“Sure thing.” 

The door slammed closed behind Sam, and Alex looked over at Dean. “So Bobby found a spell, huh? You think just shooting ‘em’s not gonna cut it?” 

“Why take that risk?” Dean countered. “If they’re as powerful as you say, bullets might not stop them.”

Alex shrugged. “Whatever. You’ve always got me.” She let her angel blade fall into her hands only momentarily before pulling it back up as she sat on the bed. “I bet I can kill them.” 

 

 **T** he sun had set by the time Sam came back. Dean was sitting at the kitchen table by the window, the entire blueberry pie they had picked up from lunch sitting in front of him. “Dude,” he said as his brother entered, a large grin on his face. “Pie.” 

In response, Sam set a large, brown paper bag down onto the table in front of his brother. 

Alex immediately winced at the strong odor, and Dean dropped his fork. “Ugh. That is—” 

“— chicken feet.” Sam finished. “Yup.” He walked over to the ratty couch and sat down. “Just like the recipe calls for. Butcher’s fridge is down.”

“They’re not chilled then.” Alex got up off of the beds. “Doesn’t the spell call for them to be chilled?” 

Sam shrugged. “Does it really matter?” 

“I can smell that.” Dean looked away, appetite lost, and Alex let out a breath of air in agreement, not much of a fan herself. 

“Uh, he says the power’s been wonky and that he’s lost so much product, he probably won’t make rent. Ditto every shop on the block — nothing but burst pipes and blackouts.” 

“The Starks.” Alex sat down on the couch beside Sam. “Pretty sure ‘chilled’ is required, if they know this is the spell we’re going for.” 

Once again Sam shrugged. “Well, I got what I could find. So unless you know how to chill them again —”

“Fridge is busted here too,” Dean added, pointing to his forgotten pie. “Why’d you think I’m eating her?” 

Alex stood up. “Pie isn’t a ‘her,’ Dean,” she pointed out lightly as she crossed the room to retrieve the bag of chicken parts. “Food doesn’t have gender.”

“Yeah, well, she’s sexy and delicious,” Dean shot back, and the young angel rolled her eyes. “Anyways, that’s weird. About the power.”

“Yeah. He says it’s like all of a sudden, the town ran out of luck.” Sam watched as Alex set the chicken feet down beside him. “Ugh.” 

“So, coincidence, right?” Dean stood up to join them, keeping a step back to avoid the chicken parts. 

“Uh . . . yeah. We’re way past the point of dead flowers.” Dean watched as Alex pulled the bag close and reached inside. “That’s disgusting.” 

Alex studied the clear, plastic bag, gently blowing air our of her nose to expel the stench of raw meat. “How many do we need?” she asked as Sam held out a bowl. She placed the bag in there for the time being. 

“I don’t know.” 

 

 **“W** hat the hell?” Dean pulled the Impala up in front of the Town Hall, the confusion on his face lit up by the flashing red and blue lights of the police cars ahead. “Come on.” 

He threw open the door to the car and led the way up to the front door, movements tight and concise as he fell into his FBI persona. Alex scrambled to find her badge, which she had haphazardly thrown into one of her jacket pockets as they had exited the car, pulling it out in time to show the man at the door. 

Inside lay what remained of Maggie Stark’s art auction. Blood and panic was thick in the air, and the angel’s wings instinctively pulled in closer, feathers ruffling in dislike. A sheet-covered body lay on the ground, and a smaller, rounder object lay a few feet to the left, also covered by a small white sheet. Alex approached, kneeling down to peel back the cloth even though she knew what lay beneath it. 

It was the head of Sue, Maggie’s assistant. Alex let the sheet fall back into place as she stood up, her mind running through the possible scenarios. The wound was clean cut; something sharp and quick. The air tingled with energy, which grew stronger around a bloodstained silver platter that lay beside the head. “Witchcraft,” she muttered, walking back over to the Winchesters. 

“Uh, yeah.” Dean nodded to the art, and Alex ran an eye over the melted and disfigured paintings. “You think, Sherlock?” 

“This was Don.” Alex jerked her head towards the door, and the two Winchesters followed her lead, hurrying back to the car. “Great. Now _both_ of our witches are totally pissed.” 

“ _Bewitched_ just got a loss less funny.”

 

 **T** hey pulled up in front of Don Stark’s mansion ten minutes later. One car sat in the driveway, one which Dean confirmed to be Don’s.

“Where is she?” Sam eventually asked, looking both ways down the road. 

“She’ll be here,” Dean promised. “They’ve been throwing thunderbolts at each other’s favorite toys. There’s nothing left for them to destroy but each other. This is basically ground zero.”

“Hope so,” Sam agreed. “We’re going to need them both in the same place to take them down.”

As if on cue, a silver convertible pulled into the driveway, and all three sank low into their seats to avoid being seen. They waited a minute, then two, and then Sam and Dean slid out of the car. Alex followed, a little more slowly. “You got the spell?” she asked Sam, who nodded. “Okay. You two go in. I’m going to do a perimeter sweep; make sure there’s not charms or hexes on the property that might stop that spell from working.” When the Winchesters exchanged unsure glances, she added, “Go. If you need me, I’m just a prayer away. You’ll be fine.” 

She waited until the brother’s had hurried away before she started circling around the inside of the iron-wrought fence, grace flicking around as she searched for any warnings that may have been set up. 

She had only made it halfway around before Dean’s voice rang through her head. _Alex. Get in here. Now._ Immediately the angel hurried across the large backyard, skirting the pool as quickly as she could. _Dammit, Alex. Hurry up._

“I’m going as fast as I can,” Alex muttered under her breath, bounding up the backstairs and jimmying open the lock. “I’ve still only got tiny little legs.” The minute she stepped into the house she pulsed her grace out, letting it spill though the rooms until she located the pulsing energy of the two witches. She could _feel_ their anger and frustration, making the air twitch and pulse. She hurried down the hall and slid into the living room to face them. 

Sam and Dean were laying on the other side of the rooms, both conscious but seemingly immobile. Sam stirred, pulling himself into a sitting position at the sight of Alex, and one large hand came to rest on his head. _Not immobile_ , Alex noted. _Just a bit banged up._

“Who’s this one?” Don looked Alex up and down before turning to Sam and Dean. “Is she with you?” 

“She’s the one I was talking about,” Maggie snapped. “The one that I felt that isn’t human.”

“Well, I got that, thank you —”

Alex’s grace snapped violently, and lighting flickered through the room. “I’m an angel,” she informed them, blade dropping into her hands. “Are we clear?” 

Sam struggled to his feet. “Alex, wait—”

Maggie flicked her hand at Alex, and the Wiccan’s energy collided with her grace, almost knocking her backwards. Alex pushed back, and lunged forward, blade twisting in her hands as she lashed out. She felt the moment her weapon sunk into the witch’s chest, felt the energy flicker and die before she pulled her blade free, spinning away in one smooth motion only to stop in front of Don. 

His face was blank with shock when Alex killed him, and that was the way it remained as he fell to the floor, expression forever frozen in grief. 

Alex let her weapon slide back up into her sleeve, her grace scrubbing it clean of the dirt and blood before she turned back to the Winchesters. Dean was on the ground to her right, and Sam was standing against the wall, eyes wide in shock.

“The spell didn’t work,” Alex noted casually, not giving the bodies behind her a second glance. “Let me guess. Chilled was important.”

“Shut up.” Dean pulled himself to his feet. “About time you got here.”

“Why did you do that?” 

The angel blinked in confusion at Sam’s anger, turning back to the younger Winchester. “They were witches,” she insisted. “What do you mean?”

“They were working things out before you came in! You didn’t need to kill them. We could have fixed this.”

“So? They’ve dropped people, Sam. That means we drop them.” 

Sam stepped forward, but Alex stubbornly held her ground, head tipping upwards in defiance at his quiet voice. “You know, you sound like Dean.”

“Is that such a bad thing?” 

Sam stalked past her and out of the house, and Alex slowly let out her breath, the muscles in her wings relaxing. Dean started after his brother, stopping beside her. “Nice ninja moves, by the way.” He patted her on the shoulder before going after Sam. With a sigh Alex, turned to follow.

 

 **T** en minutes later Alex pushed her way into the motel room. She flicked on the lights before plopping down on her bed and pulling her duffle bag off of the floor. “Can we just get moving to Bobby’s already?” she mumbled, pawing through it one last time. 

The Winchesters followed her in, and Alex watched as they both stiffly moved around the room. Dean dropped his bag on floor beside her, wincing. “Yeah, yeah. Give us a minute.” 

“You guys still in pain?” The young angel frowned. “I can try —”

“It’s fine.” Dean straightened back up before looking over at his brother. “It’s just been a long day.” He took a long swig from his silver flask. 

“And it’s not over yet.” 

Alex jumped to her feet and Dean spun around, gun drawn and cocked. A man stood by the front door. He seemed unfazed, and his dark gaze flickered across the three of them, casually sizing them up. Alex’s grace felt what he was immediately. “Leviathan.”

The man let out a small grin. “Hi Sam, hi Dean. Alex.”

“Do we know you?” 

“Well, I definitely know you. You’re the dead guys. Well, you will be in a minute.” The Leviathan stalked forward, and Alex looked around, racking her brain to remember if there was a machete anywhere nearby. 

She flinched as Dean’s gun went off, and used that moment to dive off of the bed towards where Dean had dropped his duffle bag. She heard the bullet clatter to the ground as she threw open the zipper, and then there was fighting. Her fingers wrapped around the handle of a machete, but suddenly Dean was thrown over the bed and on top of her, the weight of him pushing her into the ground. Sam let out a grunt and Alex rolled out from under the hunter, dragging the weapon with her. Three steps had her across the room, and she brought the machete down and through the Leviathan’s neck. 

Sam fell to the ground, a hand around his throat as the Leviathan toppled over, the head rolling away. “That actually works,” he got out as Alex dropped the machete on the ground. “Y-Your angel blade doesn’t —”

Alex shrugged. “It’s a stabby weapon,” she explained lamely. “Not a . . .” She made a sideways sweeping motion with her hand. “For stabbing.” She hurried over to the head and picked it up by the ear. “We, uh, we should find a box for this. Before it reattaches.”

“It’s dead?” Dean pulled himself to his feet, green eyes trained on the headless body. “Right?” 

“Uh . . . maybe? I don’t know. All I know is it’s not going anywhere until it’s back in one piece, capise? So let’s, you know, keep him this way.” She tossed the head across the room, lip curling at the sigh of black goo splattering across the floor. “Uh . . . there’s a bag in the trunk, yeah? We should take it back to Bobby’s. Besides, I need something there.” 

In response Dean tossed her the keys. “We’ll get him into the backseat —”

“Trunk,” Alex corrected. “I’m not sitting in the back with a body. The head can stay with me. Body in the back.”

Dean shrugged. “Fine. We’ll get him into the trunk.” 

 

 **T** wenty four hours later they pulled up alongside the old wooden cabin in Whitefish. Alex jumped out, leaving Sam and Dean to bring in the body while she rushed through the front door. Bobby offered a greeting but she ignored it, instead making a beeline for the backroom where the beds sat. A mattress lay off to the left and Alex collapsed onto it, pulling Castiel’s trench coat into her arms and burying her face in its sleeve as she curled her wings and body around it. She inhaled deeply, eyes falling shut at the fading scent of her mate, and Alex pulled the coat even closer, willing the smell to stay. 

She felt the gaze of the three hunters behind her, and she pulled her wings in closer, willing them to go away. 

Eventually they did.


	26. Slash Fiction

**April 2nd, 2012**

**Whitefish, Montana**

**A** lex fell into a dreamless sleep, and when she awoke it was day. A lazy sweep with her grace told her that the hunters were downstairs with the Leviathan, who didn’t feel to be moving. With a yawn, Alex got up, leaving Castiel’s trench coat bunched up by her pillow. She hurried down the rickety wooden stairs to see all three standing around the headless body which was currently propped up in a chair. “Morning.”

They turned. “Morning, Princess,” Bobby greeted gruffly before turning back to the situation at hand. “Any ideas of how to keep him from running off?” 

“Where’s the head?” 

“Over there.” Bobby motioned to a wooden box on the table, already lined with an array of tools and weapons. “I want to get some intel out of him, maybe figure out if there’s another way these bastards can die.”

Alex nodded and walked over to them, eyes running over the Leviathan. “Chain him down,” she suggested.

“Could probably pretty easily break those chains.” 

The angel’s face twisted in thought. “Let’s cut off his limbs,” she finally said. “He can’t fight back if he can’t move.” She felt the surprised looks the Winchesters gave her and shrugged. “I mean, unless you two got a better idea. Cause, yeah. Chains ain’t gonna hold him for long.” She picked up a large saw. “So you two want in, or do you want to go upstairs?” 

Both Winchesters immediately left.

It wasn’t as hard as Alex thought it was going to be. She and Bobby worked in tandem, cutting the limbs at the joints and discarding them in the metal trunk at the other end of the room. The corpse bled, of course, but for some reason the black goo was far less disgusting than actual blood. Finally Alex pulled off the last leg and deposited it in the trunk, stepping back to let Bobby lock it up. “Fun,” she grunted. “I’m going to smell like Purgatory for _years_.” 

“Go take a shower,” Bobby suggested. “I’ll chain him up and then me and the boys will put the head back on.” 

“Yeah, sounds good. See you in ten.” Alex bounded up the stairs, shaking out her wings. She paused by the back room, gaze falling on the trench coat on her bed. “The things I do for you,” she muttered lightheartedly before heading for the bathroom. 

 

**S** he hurried back downstairs after her shower, shaking her wings out as she clambered down the stairs, and momentarily wished she was back in heaven where the water would actually stick to her feathers and wash away the dirt and grime. She slid to a stop to see the Leviathan chained to the chair, limbless but with a head. Her feathers ruffled out in distaste, and she curled a lip when their eyes met. She took a quick moment to study the creature, which looked human in all respects, bar the area of his neck that was still stained black with goo from when his head had been removed. His brown hair was cropped very short, and beady black eyes stared at her from the sides of a sharp nose and thin lips. 

“Alex.” Bobby’s voice had her relaxing some. “Meet Chet.”

The angel’s gaze remained stoically cold, but she dipped her head in greeting. Then she let out a small grin as a thought struck her. “Nice to meet you,” she vocalized, stepping forward. “I’d shake your hand, but . . .”

“Fuck you.” 

Alex raised her eyebrows. “Maybe later,” she quipped back. “Unless we cut that part off too . . .”

“Alright, alright. Shut up.” Dean held out his hand to stop Alex. “Just — stop.” He looked over at Bobby. “So?” 

“So I’m going to see what makes him die.” Bobby looked over at the array of tools beside him. “Why don’t you guys go get breakfast?” he eventually suggested. “Like Feathers said, he ain’t going anywhere.” 

“I’m up for food,” Alex agreed. “Pancakes, preferably. Or there’s a Bagel Boy in town.” She shot the Leviathan a look. “Got a preference?”

“Bite me.” 

“Maybe later.” 

“Okay.” Dean grabbed Alex by the arm. “Enough with the . . . weird-monster-flirting. You’re coming with us.” Alex just snorted in amusement and let him lead her up the stairs. 

 

**B** obby was still downstairs when they returned. Alex followed the Winchesters down the stairs to find the Leviathan Chet still chained to the chair, with Bobby frowning over the table. Dean looked around. “He still sucking air?” 

“Greatest hits ain’t doing the trick.” Bobby turned to greet them with a shallow nod. “I’m down to B-sides and deep cuts.”

“At least the chains are holding.” 

“Yeah, well, his feet have been kicking at that trunk since you left.” 

“Huh. Well, you better figure out something quick.” Dean set a small white, bagel-filled bag on the wooden table. “If we don’t figure something out, we’re gonna have to end up dropping a car on him just to stop him.” 

“Actually . . .” Chet began smugly, “Edgar walked away from that car. He’s fine. Well, he is a little pissed at you, but, — oh.” He pretended to be surprised at the Winchester’s shocked faces. “Didn’t you know?” 

“Shut your cake-trap,” Dean warned. 

“Ooh.” 

Sam ignored the creature. “Bobby. You’ve been using all this stuff and he still won’t talk?” 

When Bobby shook his head Dean walked over to Leviathan, whose eyes lit up with amusement when he saw the Winchester pull the tall metal stool closer. “Huddle over, coach?” 

Dean sat down, leaning in. “How’d you find us?” he demanded.

The Leviathan scoffed. “It was easy. I used pattern-recognition software and a basic heuristic algorithm to track your known aliases.”

“Great,” Bobby muttered, “just what we need. A Mensa monster.” Alex huffed in agreement, crossing her arms. Dean stood up, moving backwards to stand next to his brother. 

“Alright.” Sam crossed his arms. “Let’s just start with the start. Where’d you get our aliases?” 

_That_ made the Leviathan grin. “From your trench-coated friend, obviously. When we were nestled in Camp Cas, kinda got the full download.” He looked over at Alex, who was standing tersely behind Sam, wings raising in the hint of a threat at the mention of Castiel. “That’s just what we do.” 

“So why are you talking to us, Chet?” Bobby asked. “You’re not dumb. Why are you spilling state secrets?” 

“Cause I’m not scared of you. You can’t stop me; you can’t stop any of us. We can’t be killed, you stupid little chew-toys. You _are_ aware that I’m the least of your concerns, right?” When both Alex and Dean scoffed he added, “Oh. You haven’t watched the news today, have you?” 

Sam and Dean exchanged looks. “Why?” Sam finally pressed. “What’s on the news?” 

Chet just raised an eyebrow, thin lips pulled into a sly grin, and Alex glanced towards the stairs. “I guess we should go check what’s on the news,” she finally admitted. She led the way up the stairs, slipping out of the way to let Sam take the lead. He sat down on the couch and flipped on the tv. Alex flopped down next to him as he turned channel to the local news station. 

Alex blinked, leaning forward. “Looks like it’s gonna be a nice day today,” she pointed out dryly, watching the weatherman on the small, flickering screen. 

“Shh.” Dean stood behind the couch, arms crossed. “See what’s on the other station. Uh, channel 11.” 

Sam accordingly changed the station, and a reporter appeared on the screen. “—two men, who up until today were presumed dead, locked the doors and opened fire, leaving no survivors.” he was saying. In the top right corner of the screen appeared security footage of the shooting, and Alex’s mouth fell open. “Sam and Dean Winchester are now the subjects of a manhunt throughout the state of California.” 

“Dude. No way.” She looked over at Sam. “This — this sounds pretty familiar. Like, more than ‘maybe this happened’ familiar.” She frowned, looking back at the screen.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Dean and Bobby exchange looks. “Okay,” Dean prompted. “How do we fix this?” 

“ ‘Fix?’ ” Alex repeated. “Dean, there’s not going to be a bandaid cure for this. And I don’t remember how it ends. They hit up a few places. That bank. Um . . . a diner?, maybe Somehow you stop them, because you both make it through and they stop being a problem. I don’t remember the specifics — it’s been four years.” 

The reporter started talking again, and Dean reached forward, snatching the remote out of his brother’s hands and turning of the television. “I can’t believe it,” he muttered. “Those sons of bitches xeroxed us.” 

“How?” Sam turned in his seat to look up at his brother and Bobby. “I mean, how did they do that?” 

“Maybe one of them touched you at the hospital.” 

“It was the hair!” a faint voice called, and Alex rolled her eyes in annoyance. “Not too hard to lift some DNA from a shower drain, guys.” 

Dean looked confused. “You can copy people like that?” 

“Yeah, if the hair follicle’s attached.” Alex shifted onto her knees as she looked up at Dean. “I mean, that’s really the only place where DNA is in hair.”

“Awesome. Well, what is their plan, exactly?” 

“Squeeze us.” Sam answered his brother’s question before Alex could open her mouth. “Turn us into the most wanted men in America.” 

“Alright. Well, that settles it. We find these ass monkeys, and we kill them ourselves.” 

Alex snorted. “Yeah. Like that’s gonna work, Winchester.” 

“Every law enforcement in the country has seen your ugly mugs this morning,” Bobby agreed. 

“Exactly. So what’s the point in trying to hide?” 

“Better than sticking your fool neck out,” the old hunter retorted. “These things are smarter than you.” Below, Alex heard Chet laugh, and Bobby’s frown deepened. 

“He’s right,” Alex quickly added before lowering her voice. “Look. Either these things are trying to force you into hiding, or they’re trying to force you into the open. You run and hide, these things go free. You go outside, either you’re gunned down by the cops or killed by these black-blooded bitches, okay? Either way it’s a lose-lose.” 

“Okay.” Dean crossed his arms, taking in a deep breath to force his chest out. “Then what you do think we should do?” 

Alex shrugged, falling back onto the couch. “Personally, I’d hunt these sons of bitches down. You just can’t go running out there guns blazing.”

When both Winchesters looked in agreement Bobby spoke up. “If you’re going to be stupid, you may as well be smart about it. You need to see a fella named Frank Devereaux.”

“Who’s he?”

“He’s a jackass and a lunatic, but he owes me on, from back in Port Huron.” Bobby walked over to the table and scribbled down the address before handing the post-it note to Dean. “In the meantime, I’ll keep working on Chatty Cathy here, see if I can figure out what will make him die. For good. Alex?” 

“I think I’ll stay here. There’s a few strings I can pull, see if there’s anything I can learn from someone who’s actually dealt with these guys before.” 

Both Dean and Bobby nodded. “Good idea.” Dean clapped his brother on the shoulder. “You still packed?”

“Mm.” Alex grabbed Sam’s wrist as he stood up. “In case the Leviathans got some of my DNA. We need a password.” 

Sam just raised an eyebrow, but Dean nodded empathetically. “How about . . . I say, ‘she’s a kind-hearted lady,’ and you say …” He motioned to Alex to finish the quote. 

The young angel just blinked. “Really? _Zeppelin?”_

“And we’ll go with that.” Sam ushered his brother towards the door. “We’ll call if we find anything.” 

“Yeah, sounds good.” Alex watched them leave. “Whatever.” 

 

**B** obby was in and out of the basement all day and the next. The sky was pitch black when Alex heard a distinctive _thump_ before there were footsteps on the stairs. The angel pushed her grace out to make sure it was Bobby before settling deeper into the couch. “How’s it going?”

“Thought you were gonna get in touch with some of your friends.”

“Eh. I put out the invitation. They can’t just drop everything and run; they have lives, Bobby — well, most of them do. There’s _one_ who’s probably just ignoring me.”

The old hunter let out a huff of amusement before wandering over to the kitchen. “You went to the store,” he noted, pulling one of the brown paper bags close.

“Yup. Got some more hunter’s helper. Should last you a few days.” 

“Thanks. How you doing, by the way?”

“Me?” Alex repeated, tipping her head back slightly so she could see the hunter over the couch. “I’m peachy.” She heard the hunter snort and added, “Why? Seriously, I’m fine.” 

“Just checking in. If you ever want to admit that that’s all a load of crap, I’m all ears. That’s what I’m here for.” Bobby pulled out a bottle of whiskey and was reaching for a glass when there was a knock on the door. Alex immediately sat up, wings tense as her grace pushed out. Bobby looked over at her, and she nodded. He opened the door and then stopped. “What the . . . what the hell are you doing here?” 

“You’re all charm, Bobby.” 

“So my therapist keeps telling me,” Bobby quipped back grumpily.

Alex perked up at the familiar voice. “Who’s that?” she asked, even though she knew perfectly well who stood in front of the old hunter. 

“Is that Alex?” Sheriff Jody Mills looked past Bobby, a small grin on her face. “Glad you’re okay.” A second’s pause before, “So, you going to invite me inside?” 

“You might not want me to. We have one of the big-mouths downstairs.” However, Bobby still stepped back and held the door open as Mills walked in, looking around the cabin. 

“So I won’t go downstairs.” She set the six pack of beer and the grocery bag down on the table. Alex immediately got to her feet, offering up a warm smile in greeting. “Mm. I, uh,” Jody turned to look at Bobby. “I wanted to come and thank you.”

“Thank me?” 

“Well, yeah. Seeing they were fresh out of ‘thanks for saving me from the liver-eating surgeon’ cards at the store.” 

“Oh. That.” Bobby shrugged. “Just doing my job. Which nobody pays me for,” he added a bit sourly. Alex huffed in agreement. 

“Right. How you doing, by the way?” 

“I’m fine. Every day’s a gift.” 

“Your _house_ just burned down.”

Bobby watched as Alex snuck over to the grocery bag, curiously peering inside. “As you can see, I’ve got a roof over me.” In a quiet tone he added, “Besides, she’s been more upset about it than me.”

“It’s not a bad thing to show your feelings, Bobby,” the angel quipped, pulling out a bag of chocolate chips and scurrying back to the couch. “It was my home too, and I’ve only lived there for three years.” 

“Doesn’t mean —”

“Bobby!” Sheriff Mills cut him off. “Let someone be nice to you for five minutes?” 

“Okay,” the hunter finally relented. “But not _too_ nice. I can’t be going soft.” 

“Course not.” There was a warm look in the woman’s eyes as she swept her gaze across Alex and Bobby. “I can cook. Ish. You know? Why don’t you let me make you something? Maybe put this place of yours into some sort of order.” When Bobby looked hesitant she added, “Come on. I owe you that much.”

“Okay,” the gruff hunter finally relented. “Thanks, Sheriff.” 

“Jody.”

Bobby nodded. “Yeah. Uh, I’ll be downstairs. Make yourself at home, I guess.” With that, the hunter disappeared down the stairs. 

Alex shoveled in a handful of chocolate chips, watching as Mills explored the small cabin, acquainting herself with every shelf and cupboard. “So,” she eventually began, “how’s it been? Last I heard you were getting your appendix out.”

“Yeah. I’m, uh, I’m fine.” Jody Mills closed the far cupboard and turned to looked at Alex, leaning her small frame against the counter. “Apart from the monsters of c—” Suddenly she cut off, brown eyes widening in alarm. 

Confused, Alex turned around then grinned. “Oh!” Light grey wings were curled forward, slightly covering bright blue eyes that gleamed with curiosity. Alex jumped over the back of the couch, and the wings pulled back to let her move closer. “Hey.”

The angel’s head tipped, eyes growing cold. “What’s in the basement?”

“Leviathan Long story. Uh,” Alex glanced back at Sheriff Mills, who’s original shock had been replaced with guarded curiosity. “Jody, this Ezekiel. He’s a seraph. Zeke, Jody. She’s the sheriff.”

“It’s nice to meet you.” Ezekiel briefly dipped his head before turning back to Alex. “What was it you wanted to speak about?” 

“Wait? Seraph as in angel? So on top of this, angels exist?” 

Alex opened her mouth to explain, but Ezekiel spoke first, voice quiet in his contemplative way. “She doesn’t know who you are?” 

“I, uh . . . I guess it never really came up.” Alex’s brow furrowed as she pondered it. “Yeah.” She looked over at the Sheriff. “Um . . . yeah. I’m kind of an angel too. I promise I’ll explain later. Maybe we should go talk outside,” she suggested to the seraph beside her. She led the way outside, face flushing as she heard Jody yell out Bobby’s name. “Thanks for coming,” she finally said, wings pulling in tight at the chilly March air. 

“Where have you been? No one’s heard from you since Castiel died.” Ezekiel’s eyes flashed once again with concern. “Father’s been worried.” 

Alex snorted in amusement, looking up into the night sky. “Thank Cassiel for his concern, but I think two archangel’s watching my back is enough,” she joked. She felt Ezekiel’s grace push against hers, not sure if she was joking; in protest Lucifer’s grace bubbled up, churning inside of her, but Alex stubbornly pushed it away. “Seriously. I’m fine. How’s, uh, how’s heaven?” 

“In turmoil.” Ezekiel’s frown deepened. “Many of us had hoped that the war would bring about a strong leader; without one no one knows what to do. Remiel has stepped in, but most still resent his leadership. Some . . .” The seraph hesitated. “Many of us expected you to take control; you were Castiel’s mate, after all. Were suppose to be,” he quickly corrected. 

Alex scratched her neck as she processed what the angel had just said. “I — I can’t lead heaven,” she finally said with a small laugh. “You’re joking, right? I, I’ve barely _been_ to heaven. How — How could anyone expect me to _lead_ it? I’m no Michael. I . . . I’d just mess it up. Besides,” she added pointedly. “I’m a female angel. No one would listen to me. Hell, I couldn’t even go back to heaven without a mate.”

To her surprise, Ezekiel tipped his head. “What do you mean?” 

“What do I mean?” Alex actually laughed. “You’re kidding, right? The first thing Castiel said to me about being an angel is that I can’t go _anywhere_ alone. Especially unmated.”

“ _Castiel_ was rebelled.” The seraph’s voice grew sharp. “He had lost all privileges to having a mate. If he were to lose you, it would be because _he_ wasn’t worthy.” He blinked and shook his wings out, letting his feathers lie flat. “Tell me. Besides me and my brother, how many angels have you actually known?” 

Alex snorted, raising her hand to count them off. “Well, let’s see. Castiel, Gabriel, Lucifer, Balthazar.”

“So thieves and traitors.” 

“I —”

“ _Don’t._ ” Ezekiel’s voice grew sharp, and Alex pulled her wings in, confused and concerned; she had never seen the seraph like this. “We are not your enemies, Alex. I don’t know what you have been told, but no real angel will hurt you, or do anything against your will. Being chosen to take a mate is a great honor and a great responsibility, and I don’t think you truly understand how much others will respect you for who you are.”

Alex just shook her head, searching desperately for something to say. “Zuriel tried to take me,” she muttered, kicking sullenly at a stone. “Doesn’t seem like he ‘respected’ me.”

“Zuriel and his friends haven’t yet learned their place.” The angel’s wings flicked in distaste. “They’re still adolescents, but don’t worry; my father put them in their place after the . . incident.”

Not sure how to respond, the young angel shoved her hands into her pockets. “Listen,” she sighed, changing the topic completely. “Do you know anything about Leviathans or not?”

“I know who they are. That Father cast them into purgatory because of their unholy appetite. They were one of his first living creations on this earth, but they were dark and imperfect. They developed a taste for the angels and brought havoc upon anyone that set foot on the Earth. Father constructed purgatory when the death toll grew too high — when there was no salvation left, yet he couldn’t bring himself to destroy what he had brought to life. But I don’t know how to subdue them.” The seraph shook his head. “They exist in a hierarchy. Not even angels can kill them. I’m afraid that’s all I know. I can ask my father when I return, if you want.”

“Yeah. That’d be great.” Ezekiel flared his wings to leave, and Alex held out a hand to stop him. “Wait! Tell, uh, tell your brothers I said hey, okay? Especially Koda and Emmanuel. And, uh . . . if you guys wanted to visit sometime . . .” She pulled back, feet scuffling embarrassedly in the dirt. “It gets a little lonely with only the Winchesters.” 

The angel’s gaze softened. “I’ll pass the message along,” he promised, grace pushing against her in reassurance. Once again Alex felt Lucifer’s grace stir, but she quickly quelled it. Then the seraph was gone, and her wings fell down in disappointment, already missing the loss of one of her kind. 

When she reentered the cabin Bobby and Sheriff Mills were deep in conversation. Seeing Alex, they both turned, and Alex blinked. “He wasn’t helpful,” she finally said. When neither moved, she added, “What?” 

“You’ve been an angel for two years?” 

Alex looked down at the ground. “It never came up, okay?” 

“You’ve been an _angel_ for two _years_?”

“What did you expect me to do?” Alex defended. “I, I — how was I suppose to work that into a _normal conversation_?” She didn’t miss the way Bobby snuck back downstairs, and her wings flared out indignantly at the thought of him leaving her like this. “Like, ‘Oh hey, Sheriff, zombies are real. I’m also an angel, by the way.’ ”

“Yeah!” By now Jody Mills was standing in front of her; she obviously wasn’t angry, but her eyes flashed all the same. “That would have worked just great.”

“It’s not even your business.” Alex took a deep breath, calming herself down. “Listen. Sorry I didn’t tell you, I guess. What’d Bobby tell you?” 

“Everything.” The Sheriff’s voice dropped. “I’m sorry about Castiel, anyways.” 

Alex shrugged. “He’s not dead,” she futilely insisted. She pushed past the human to get to the couch. “I’d know if he was dead.” 

Thankfully, Jody seemed to sense it was a sensitive subject. “How about some sandwiches?” she suggested. “Bobby! Hungry?” 

Footfalls on the stairs announced the grumpy hunter’s reappearance. “Huh? Yeah, sure. Sounds good.” He glanced over at Alex on the couch. “You said your angel friend knew nothing?” 

Alex shrugged. “He’s one of the Firstborns. They weren’t around then. I’ve been trying to get a hold of someone who was, but he’s being a dick.” She shrugged again and stood up. “Zeke’s going to ask Cassiel, though. That’s his dad. He might know something, being an archangel and all. How about you? Find anything?” 

“Well, I see why you gotta keep the heads separate. Took it off, ten minutes later it somehow managed to crawl back on and reattach.” 

“Ew.” Alex wrinkled her nose. “Gross. How’s he now?” In response, a faint noise of protest came from downstairs, and the angel nodded. “Cool cool.” 

“So, how powerful are these things?” Jody walked over to the grocery bag and pulled out a loaf of white bread. 

“Stronger than angels, that’s for sure.” Alex didn’t miss the fear and surprise that jumped across the sheriff’s face. “There’s a reason God locked them in Purgatory —”

“Wait. There’s a God?” 

Alex’s eyes narrowed in confusion. “Of course there is,” she insisted. “We just . . . don’t know where he is. But that’s not important. These Leviathans — we barely know how to contain them, much less kill them. They’re basically unstoppable.” 

“Wait wait wait.” Once again Alex was cut off. “But you’ve got one downstairs? How?”

“Well we know cutting off their heads slows them down so . . .”

“Feathers here had the brilliant idea of cutting off his limbs,” Bobby finished. “Which means he’s basically stuck wherever we put him.”

“Like a monster nugget,” Alex added. “Mm. Be really careful you don’t touch him, okay? We don’t know if his legs will grow back if he shifts again.”

“Concern duly noted.” Turning back to Jody Mills, Bobby continued, “Basically all we know these bastards are you can cut off their heads to temporarily slow ‘em down, and Alex said something about a chemical that burns them.”

“Yeah. Like clorox or something. I don’t know. That might be totally wrong.”

“Ah. And you know that, how? Is that like a weird angel power?” 

Alex and Bobby exchanged looks. “Uh . . . yeah. Let’s go with that.” Bobby’s phone rang, and he dug it out of his pocket. “Hello.” He listened for a few seconds before nodding. “Well, chopping their heads off won’t kill em, but it’ll slow them down pretty good. Till they fuse back up, anyways.”

“Winchesters?” Alex asked, head tipping to one side. 

Bobby nodded in confirmation. “Well, believe me, I don’t want you walking right up to them either. I’m still looking for something you can shoot at them.”

“Hey, you take mayo, right, Bobby?” 

Bobby glanced over at Sheriff Mills and nodded. Then, “What?” He turned back his back to them, attention back on the phone. “No. Shut up, you idjit. Where are you boys off to next?” He listened for a second then shook his head. “It’s too late. They hit St. Louis. Pumpkin-and-Honeybunny’d a diner there.” Pause. “Yeah. How’d you know?” Another, longer break, and then Bobby nodded. “Yeah. You got it.” He hung up and turned back to Alex. “They’ve got a lead.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. The places the Leviathans have hit; they’re all places the boys have worked cases. The next ones in Avery, Iowa. They’re gonna try and get there before they strike again. Oh, and they were thinking it would be a good idea to have backup; you busy?”

Alex rolled her eyes. “I can be there by this time tomorrow.” She looked over towards her open duffle bag. “Can I at least eat my dinner first?” 

When Jody voiced her consent, Alex went over to her bag and started throwing her clothes inside. “No mayo, please,” she added over her shoulder. “Yuck.” She finished packing before reaching for Castiel’s trench coat. 

“Is that Castiel’s?” Jody’s soft voice close behind her had Alex jumping in surprise. 

She nodded, not looking up. “Yeah. I . . . it’s the only thing of him I have left.”

A gentle hand came to rest on her shoulder as Alex carefully folded it up. “Well, if you ever need someone to talk to, I’m right here. I know a thing or two about lost loved ones.” The sheriff’s voice lightened up. “Come on. Your sandwich is ready.”

“Yeah.” Alex gently laid the coat in her bag. “Thanks, Jody.”

 

**A** lex turned the Marquis off of Highway 5 just as her phone began to ring. She leaned over in the seat to grasp at it, doing her best to also keep her eyes above the road. “What?” she finally asked, pulling the device up to her ears.

“You getting close?” Bobby’s gruff voice came over the line, and the angel grunted in affirmation. 

“Yeah, Bobby. I’m about ten minutes out. I only stopped for gas, you know. If I weren’t an angel and so damn good now at being still, I’d probably be going crazy.” 

The old hunter didn’t offer up any sympathy. “Listen. I just spoke to Dean; he and Sam are in county lock up.”

“Yeah. You told me that when you called this afternoon. They’re still there, huh? That’s good; that mean’s their doppelgängers haven’t eaten ‘em yet.”

“Yeah, but they’re probably planning something. But I think I’ve finally figured how to put these suckers down for the count.”

“Yeah?” Alex put her phone on speaker and tossed it onto the dashboard in front of her. “What’d you find?” 

“Well, you were right about there being a chemical. The stuff’s called Borax. It’s found in a lot of cleaning solutions. You can thank Jody for figuring that one out; she was cleaning the floor and some of that stuff fell through the floorboards. Burns the fucker like you won’t believe.”

“Then you cut off the heads and keep them separate,” Alex finished. “Awesome. Great work?” 

“Ah. Also learned that their limbs don’t regrow when they shift.” 

At those words Alex fell silent, fingers tightening on the steering wheel to quell her anger. When the silence lengthened Bobby prodded, “Alex?” 

“You fucking _touched_ him?” Alex exploded. “Dammit, Bobby! I told you to be careful.” She heard Bobby start to protest, but cut him off. “What if they’d grown back, huh? You’d be _dead_. What the hell am I suppose to do with you dead?”

Bobby snorted. “I ain’t dying any time soon,” he promised. 

“Good.” Alex’s voice cracked slightly. “The last thing I need is for you to die too. Not after the house. Not after Cas.” 

A small pause followed her words. “Well, I’m here for you. That’s my job.” 

“Yeah. Thanks, Bobby.” She heard the phone click as the hunter hung up, and she tossed her cellphone onto the seat beside her. 

 

**F** ive minutes later she pulled up in front of the Monroe Country Police Station. She grabbed the machete off of the front seat before shoving her phone in her pocket. Her grace pushed outwards, scouting the parking lot and the building, and she immediately felt two Leviathans. “Dammit,” she cursed before breaking into a run. 

She threw open the door and looked around, eyes immediately coming to rest on the two bodies in front of her. The first lay splayed across the desk, chest ripped open and blood splattered across the wall. The second lay two feet to her right, and white hot terror flashed up her spine at the sight of the large, muscular body and plaid shirt. However, only a second later did her grace tell her that what lay in front of her was a Leviathan. Moving closer she could see that the head was decapitated, currently laying three feet away, that key piece of information having been obscured by the heavy desks. Alex hurriedly picked up the head of Sam Winchester, pushing away the goosebumps that followed. She raised her head, grace pushing outwards. “Dean?” she yelled, twirling the machete in one hand while her grace pinpointed the human’s location. She felt three of them to her left, and she took off down the hall. 

She slid in through an open door just in time to see Dean Winchester take off Dean Winchester’s head with a fire axe. The body crumpled to the floor, black goo splattering across the walls, leaving the head to topple to the ground. “Well, that felt good,” Dean joked to his brother. Seeing the way Sam was staring past him, he turned to see Alex standing there, Sam’s head in one hand, machete in the other. “Oh.” He turned, pointing the axe straight at Alex. “She’s a kind-hearted—”

“I’m not quoting Zeppelin back.” Alex placed the head on the table, shaking out her fingers to dislodge the strands of hair. “Looks like I missed all the action. That sucks. Oh, and I, uh, found this in the main room. Didn’t want it reattaching, you know?” Her attention was drawn to an old man standing beside Sam, and she watched as he uncuffed Sam from the table, and a quick look around had her realizing she was standing in an interrogation room. “He with us?” 

“Yeah.” Sam rubbed his wrists. “At least, I think so.”

“So . . .” the man said, “the FBI are on their way.” 

“Yeah, listen, about that —”

“Whatever I can do,” the sheriff promised. “Especially if it involves lying about everything I just saw.” He pocketed the keys before nodding towards Alex. “She with you two?” 

“Yeah,” Alex nodded. “More or less. Same . . . line of business.” She motioned towards the head in front of her.

“Listen.” Dean picked up his own head and set it down on the table beside Sam’s. “I was hoping you could kind of help us be . . . dead. You know, quote unquote.” 

The man looked down at the headless body before nodding. “Yeah. Yeah. I should be able to swing that.” 

“Awesome. Come on, let’s grab a mop.” Dean brushed past Alex, but stopped when Sam didn’t follow. “Sammy? You alright?” His voice was lined with concern, and Alex tipped her head in confusion when the youngest Winchester barely even looked up. 

Sam just gave a tiny nod. “Yeah, Dean. I’m fine.” Even his voice seemed tired, and the young angel’s worry increased tenfold. 

“Let’s go.” Dean put a hand on Alex’s shoulder. “He’ll catch up.” He led the way down the hall. “Glad you showed up, at any rate. How’s things back at the cabin?” 

Alex shrugged. “Things are fine. Sheriff Mills showed up to thank Bobby from saving her from the Leviathan at Sioux Falls General. She brought food, so that was cool.” She shrugged once again, not sure what else to say. “He figured out how to stop the Leviathans, but you already know that. Otherwise I just spent the past twenty-three hours driving to save your asses.” 

Dean shrugged. “Sorry. If you want to go find a motel that’d be cool. We’ll finish up here. Just text me the address and room number once you check in, okay?”

“Yeah, sounds good. I think I’ll go down 165th into Albia, okay? I saw a motel on the outskirts on the way in.”

“Okay. We’ll catch up to you in half an hour.”

“Sounds good. And remember to bring the heads, huh?” And with that, Alex hurried out to her car. 

 

**W** hen she woke up, the Winchesters were gone. A note was scrawled on a piece of motel letterhead, and Alex immediately recognized it as Dean’s handwriting. _Hit the road early. We’ll meet up with you in Des Moines. Text you later._

With a small sigh Alex crumpled up the note and shoved into her pocket. After checking out she jumped into her Marquis and sped out onto the road. 

She had only driven for an hour before she slammed on the brakes, guiding her car off to the side of the road. Peering out the window she saw a large lake spread out before her, with a large pier reaching out into its shining depths. But it was what was on that pier that interested her. A dark, dusty hatchback sat on the gravel parking lot, and two familiar shapes were facing each other. Alex threw the Marquis into gear and turned down the gravel driveway. 

She jumped out of the car and slammed the door behind her as she hurried towards the two Winchesters. “—know my motto,” Dean was saying. “I’m here to help.”

“ ‘Here to help,’ ” Sam repeated scoffingly. “Kind of like you helped Amy?” 

_Amy? Amy Pond?_ Alex blinked in confusion, thinking back to the young kitsune she and Sam had tracked down. Obviously the two Winchesters knew something she didn’t, because Dean looked throughly embarrassed. “Listen, Sam . . .”

“Don’t — don’t lie to me again,” Sam snapped. “No, don’t even talk to me. Yeah. I can’t.” He threw open the back of the dusty hatchback and pulled out his duffle bags. “You know what, Dean?” He stalked away down the pier. “I can’t.”

Dean took three steps toward his brother. “You can’t what, Sam?”

“I can’t talk to you right now! Dean . . .” Sam spun around, anger dancing in his hazel eyes. “I can’t even be around you right now!”

“Okay, so —”

“So I think you should go on without me.” There was a long pause where no one moved. Then Sam spoke again, voice sharp with command. “Go.” He spun around and stalked away. 

Dean’s shoulders fell in defeat. “Alright. Sorry, Sam.”

Alex watched in amazement, not really sure what she had just witnessed. “You’re just going to let him go?” she gaped at Dean. When Dean shrugged, Alex hurried after the youngest Winchester. “Sam!”

“Alex, leave me alone!” 

“Where the hell are you even going?” the young angel snapped. She reached the hunter and grabbed his arm. “You’re on a fucking pier, Sam —”

The fist came out of nowhere and sent the young angel stumbling backwards. Her hands flew up to her mouth in shock, eyes widening in confusion to find blood. “How —” she breathed. 

“Do you know what he _did?”_ Sam snapped. “He killed Amy, Alex. After he promised me he wouldn’t! Then he just kept on letting me believe she was still alive!” 

Alex stared up at the hunter in disbelief. “So you’re just walking away? We’re faced with the biggest threat we’ve ever seen and you’re pissed because Dean killed a monster? I —”

“You know what? I don’t expect you to understand.” Sam squared his jaw, glaring down at Alex. “You’re just like him. I — I can’t.” He turned around and started walking. 

Alex ran a hand through her hair, searching for something, anything to say. “Sam,” she started again, reaching into her pocket. “Please. Just — take this.” She tossed the keys to her Marquis to the Winchester. “I expect her in perfect condition when you come back, okay?” 

Sam shook his head, but shoved the keys into his pocket. “I’m not coming back.” 

“Then keep her until we meet again.”


	27. Gunslinger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short little original chapter today. I'll make up for it with a long one tomorrow :)

**“T** his might actually be a good thing.” Alex looked over at Dean Winchester, finally breaking the silence. “You and Sam separating.”

Dean shot her a glance out of the corner of her eye, and Alex looked away. But all he said was, “How?” 

“Well, you know, especially since you two were the most wanted serial killers yesterday, maybe being in the same place at the same time wouldn’t be the smartest idea, you know? Listen,” she added before Dean could respond, “Bobby just texted me, said there’s a case about five hours west of here. It’s in a small town, nice and out of the way, and it’s a simple salt and burn. We get in, we get out in a day, maybe two.” 

Dean let out a skeptical grunt, but asked, “Where is it?” 

“Sholes, Nebraska. Just follow I-80.” Alex pointed past Dean, and he knocked her arm out of his way. The angel pulled it back in with a frown. “Sam’s going to be fine, you know that, right?” 

“Yeah, well, I wouldn’t be so worried if the devil wasn’t riding shotgun,” the Winchester shot back. “You’ve seen what he can do.”

“Sam’s got it under control. That hole ‘hand scar’ thing’s really working out, okay?” When Dean didn’t look convinced she added, “Plus, I’m literally just a call away. He won’t hesitate if he really can’t handle it. Sam trusts me, and he knows I can help.” 

Dean didn’t respond, but he tightened his grip on the steering wheel. With a sigh, the young angel gave up, turning her attention to the fields passing by.

 

**April 6, 2012**

**Sholes, Nebraska**

Alex wandered across the dark grass, gaze focusing on the crooked tree up ahead. Her fingers brushed over the cold marble stones all around her, and she stopped, staring up at the dark night sky where stars burned with their cold light. Her wings flared open, muscles tensing as she prepared to thrust them downwards.

“You know, you’re not suppose to be here.” 

The angel’s wings fell back to her side at the the ever-familiar voice, and she turned, wings spreading open in greeting as an angel sauntered out of the shadows. “Yeah,” she agreed, “like you’re one to be talking about rules.” A sharp flash of anger shot through her. “Where the hell have you been?” 

Large, golden wings flicked nonchalantly. “I’ve been busy.” 

“I’ve been _praying_.”

“And now I’m here.” Gabriel stopped in front of her, golden-whiskey eyes coming to rest on her bruised jaw. “What happened?”

“Sam.” The young angel’s gaze dropped. “He punched me.”

Fingers came to rest on her jawline and warm, comforting grace pushed inwards, healing the damaged tissue. Something churned inside her in strong protest, ice cold in comparison, but Alex pushed it down, taking a deep breath to steady herself.

Sensing the turmoil, Gabriel pulled back, eyes glittering in amusement.“So. You gonna tell me why Sam did that?” 

“It’s how the Winchesters show affection,” Alex half-joked, still frustrated that the archangel had chosen that moment to finally show himself. 

If Gabriel noticed, he didn’t say anything. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he quipped back before his gaze drifted across the cemetery. “What are you doing out here?” 

Alex shrugged, turning away from the archangel. “I was gonna learn to fly,” she admitted, fingers coming to rest on top of a smooth black headstone. She could feel the archangel’s gaze on her hand and she pulled back. “You know, we buried my mom in a place just like this. Under a large tree, at the bottom of a hill.” 

“Is she dead here too?” 

“Yeah.” Alex shrugged, kicking at a small twig. “But she’s buried up in Minnesota. We don’t get there very often. I don’t know, this was just the best place to start flying around her.” She flapped her wings for emphasis, careful not to move them _too_ fast. 

“All by yourself, huh?” Gabriel sounded both amused and displeased. “How well do you think that’s gonna go, half-pint?” He motioned up towards the night sky. “First thrust of your wings’ll send you a hundred feet up. Then you’ll start falling. Do you know how to land?” Alex didn’t respond, and the archangel frowned. “Well it’s a good thing I’m here, then.”

“You’re gonna teach me to fly?” 

“No.” 

“Gabe.” 

“The last thing I need is for you to be mobile. Besides,” he added after a pause, “why do you need to fly?” 

“I dunno. To, uh . . . to get away from other angels?” 

Gabriel actually laughed. “Cute. You’re not going to be out-flying angels anytime soon.” His wings flicked and voice deepened as he added, “Why? Have you been having any problems with other angels?” 

“Well . . . no.” Alex didn’t miss the way the archangel grinned, and she crossed her arms. “It’s good to be prepared,” she added with a mutter. She flapped her wings gently, enjoying the way the air stirred her feathers. 

“How’s the wing doing?” Gabriel’s gaze slipped across her left wing, which twitched under his stare. 

“It’s fine,” the young angel promised, still a little defensive. “It’s been two years since Luce broke it, okay? Come on, man. Just teach me how to fly already.”

“Later,” Gabriel promised. “When you have a reason to fly, you will.” His gaze flickered up briefly before returning to Alex. “I can’t stay much longer. You’re looking better, anyways. Since I last saw you.”

Alex rolled her eyes, wings pulling in tight. “The last time we saw each other I was in _heat_. Of course I’m looking better. I — I mean, I was a mess of hormones and angel instincts, but I’ve got it all figured out now. It was just really overwhelming, you know, with everything being thrown at me all at once.”

To her surprise, Gabriel nodded. “Make sense. I suppose pushing any and every angel away didn’t help with the transition —”

“Yeah, cause Cas was being an over-protective turd.”

Gabriel rolled his eyes, leaving Alex frowning, not sure at what she was missing. Before she could ask, however, the archangel raised his wings, ready to leave. “Well, if you start going into heat again, I’m one call away.”

“I won’t be needing you.” Those words had the archangel stopping, golden eyes flickering with interest. “You know, Lucifer might be an asshole, but at least he’s actually been helpful — ow! Stop!” Alex pushed back against his grace when it found Lucifer’s, sending an icy chill running up her spine. “Don’t do that!” 

The archangel didn’t immediately answer, but his grace pulled away. “You’re right about him being an asshole,” he finally muttered. “That’s only a temporary fix, you know. I’d give it five years before it pulls away, maybe ten if your grace fully accepted it.” 

“Hell, five years is more than enough time for me — ah dammit.” Alex watched the archangel disappear into the sky. “Fuck you too, Gabriel.” The angel let her wings fall down, the prospect of falling a hundred feet no longer making flying appealing. With a sigh, she wandered further into the cemetery.

 

 **“W** here were you?” Dean looked up when Alex pushed her way into the motel room. “You were gone all night.” He motioned to the two plates in front of him. “I got breakfast, by the way.”

“Thanks, De.” Alex plopped down in one of the wooden chairs, pulling the plate of pancakes closer. “I went for a walk. Did some thinking. I’m fine.”

“Never thought you weren’t.” Dean took a sip of his coffee. “Listen, I’ve been looking into this case thing, and you’re right. Simple salt-and-burn. I did some digging into the house’s history, and a woman — Sarah Russell — was murdered there ten years ago. Shot twice in the head by her husband.”

“That’s how Bobby said the vic died.”

“I was thinking you go to the morgue, I’ll hit up the family. If all goes well we’ll find out where the bitch was planted, be on the road by tomorrow.” 

“Sounds good, yeah.” Alex pushed her plate away, not really hungry. “When does the morgue open? Nine, ten?” 

“Ten.”

“Huh. Then I’m going to take a shower.” Before Dean could respond she stood up and disappeared into the bathroom. 

 

 **“A** gent Sheppard.” Alex briefly held up her badge before tucking it back away in her pocket. “I was just passing through and dispatch told me and my partner to come check out the death of a Mr. Campbell?” She cast a quick glance around the pristine government building before turning her attention back to the man in front of her. 

“Adrian Campbell. Yeah, I have him in the back.” Dr. Malone waved Alex forward and down the long, white hall. “Now why would the FBI be interested in his death?” 

Alex shrugged, feigning innocence. “Honestly I’m not sure, sir. You’d have to ask my partner on that one. I just look at the bodies.”

“Yeah, they don’t tell us much, do they?” Dr. Malone nodded in ernest agreement as he pushed open the stainless steel double doors. “Well I can show you the body, but we haven’t conducted an official autopsy yet.” 

“Why’s that?” Alex watched as the coroner pulled out the sheet-covered corpse. 

“Well,” Malone began as he pulled the sheet away from the head, “cause of death is clearly seen.” He motioned to the two large holes in the victim’s forehead. “Two gunshot wounds to the head. Judging by the size of the wounds, I’d say .45 caliber from ten feet, give or take.” 

“Huh. And you got all that from the wound? No bullets were found?” 

The coroner shook his head. “Nothing. But I’m a bit of a gun buff, so I know my shots.” He replaced the sheet and pushed the body back into the refrigerator unit. “Otherwise the body was unharmed, apart from a few bruises from where he fell into the chair.”

“And the police have no leads on who did this.”

Dr. Malone shook his head. “Like you said, they don’t tell us anything. Although my buddy’s was one of the first on the scene, and he said they have no idea who did it. Hell, they’re not even sure how that son of a bitch got into the house in the first place.” 

“And the crime scene’s just down the street, correct?” 

“Yeah, three or four blocks. I can give you the address if you want.”

“Sure.” Alex pulled her phone out of her pocket. “I think I might go there next if my partner isn’t there already. He’s talking to the next of kin,” she added rather pointlessly. She accepted the scrap of paper with the address before shoving it in her pocket. “Thanks. We’ll be in touch.” 

Once out of the building Alex dialed Dean’s number. It rang, and then rang again before going to voicemail. The young angel sighed. “Hey, it’s Alex. I’m heading over to the crime scene. Call me when you get this.” She hung up and started off down the street. 

The air was delightfully warm, and Alex’s eyes fell closed, wings puffing out to catch the heat in her feathers. The street bustled with cars and people lined the sidewalks, obviously enjoying one of the first nice days of spring. 

She turned at the corner, darting across the street to follow the sidewalk up to the yellow tape. Her grace picked up a few crime scene analysts inside, and she hurried up the porch steps to show her ID. Just as she slipped under the caution tape her phone rang, making the angel pause to pull it out. “Hello?” 

“Hey. I just finished talking to the guy’s wife.”

“Huh.” Alex bounded up the stairs at the direction of the officer at the door. She waved her thanks before adding, “Find anything interesting?” 

“Cold spots, flickering lights, rodents in the wall, the whole nine. You?” 

“Vic died from two shots to the head. Coroner’s estimating them to be .45 caliber, but doesn’t think any bullets were found.”

“Okay, well, I’ll go check out the crime scene —”

“Already there.” Alex glanced through the doorway in front of her, grace flickering out ahead. “How far away are you?”

“Four, maybe five minutes. How long do you think you’re going to be?” 

“Uh, four, maybe five minutes. I’ll meet you outside, okay?” When Dean consented, she hung up and stepped into the room. Two crime scene analysts were crouched in separate corners, and the oldest one looked when she entered. “Agent Sheppard,” Alex announced, flashing her badge. “Want to walk me through what happened here?” 

“Vic was found over there.” The analyst pointed to an overturned chair. “Two bullet wounds to the forehead, blood spattering suggests the killer was standing about where you were.” He motioned to the blood on the far wall and then to the ground in front of Alex in turn. “Killer must have picked up the bullets. The weird thing is we can’t find any impact points on the wall.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“Bullets went clear through the vic’s head. You’d expect to see some mark on the wall behind him, especially at this distance.”

“Anything else weird?” 

“Well, there’s one other thing.” The analyst lowered his voice, making Alex raise her eyebrows in curiosity. “The wife says when she came home the door was locked. The screens on the windows on the first floor were untouched to.” His voice raised back to its normal volume as he turned away. “If you ask me, it was the wife. I didn’t know them, but everyone knew they had a pretty strained relationship.” 

“Huh. Anything else?”

“Nothing. No evidence of a struggle, nothing.”

A honk from outside had Alex turning. “I believe that’s my ride,” she finally said, exasperating tinging her voice. “Thanks for your time.”

“Yeah, sure.” The analyst went back to his work, and Alex hurried down the stairs. Something caught her eye, and she ducked into the living room, grabbing a small Mac laptop off of the coffee table and sticking it under her arms. Then she exited the house with a quick, “Taking it back to the lab,” as an explanation offered up to the man at the door. 

She threw open the hatchback’s door and slid into the front seat. “Honking? Really?”

“Hey, it got you out here.” Dean pulled the car back into the street. “Well? Anything interesting?”

“Not really.” Alex rolled her sleeves up and threw her arm out of the open window, fingers grasping at the air. “Guy says the wife said the doors were locked, and the screens on the downstairs windows weren’t tampered with. No evidence of any bullets either. You?” 

“Same story. Wife says she came home after her shift at the hospital in Wayne and found him dead. I called the hospital, they confirm her story. So next stop would be research. How does lunch sound?” 

“That sounds good.” Alex pulled her feet up onto the seat. “I like food.” She turned her attention out the window. “It’s a nice day out. You know what’s weird?” She waited for Dean to grunt before continuing, “I haven’t really had a summer since Ben and Lisa. I mean, last summer was spent cooped up with Balthazar. Sure, I could go outside, but I couldn’t go _out_. Not with other people. I kind of missed it.”

Dean didn’t respond, and they fell into silence. 

 

 **B** ack at the motel Alex collapsed on the couch, pulling her laptop down onto her stomach. “So, what’s the plan?” she asked, tipping her head to watch Dean unbutton his dress shirt. “Find where she’s planted and head out to the graveyard tonight?” 

Dean nodded, discarding his shirt onto the bed. “Yeah. Shouldn’t take to long to find where she is. There’s only one graveyard in town, and it’s been there for the past half a century or so. So if you can find where exactly she is that’d be awesome; otherwise we’ll just have to find her ourselves.”

The young angel made a face at the idea of canvasing an entire graveyard by themselves. “Yuck.” She wiggled her way further into the couch, logging into her recently acquired laptop. “Also do you remember how to reset a laptop?” She powered it up and held down the options key in an attempt to figure it out. 

Dean looked over at her, gaze focusing on the Mac in her lap. “Yeah, no. Where’d you get that?” 

“Uh, the guys house. I need a new one anyways, and it’s not like was using,” Alex defended, watching as the screen turned white. “Can we swing by Bobby’s when we ditch town? I’m tired of using your crappy PC.” 

Dean changed into his jeans before grabbing a black shirt and walking over to her. “You feeling okay?” he asked, eyes narrowing as he stopped beside her. “You look a little flushed.” He reached out and put a hand over her forehead, and Alex leaned into his warm touch. “Are you uh . . . you know?” 

The young angel smiled, wings flicking in amusement. “Going into heat?” she finished. “No. That’s not for another four or five months still.” She watched as Dean pulled on his shirt before teasing, “You’re so awkward about it. It’s natural, Dean. Hell, most animals go into heat, I mean, apart from humans and some primates.” When Dean walked away she shook her head. “I guess I shouldn’t expect a _guy_ to understand anyways,” she said after him as he disappeared into the bathroom.

 

 **A** lex watched as the flames leapt up from the bones, almost painfully bright against the midnight darkness. Dean stood across from her, the fire casting dark shadows across his face, creating an illusion of a rule and inhuman expression. The young angel pushed that thought away, knowing the light was casting a similar look onto her own face.

The shoveled the dirt back into the grave when the fire began to die, smothering the remaining embers. After she had patted down the last of the dirt, Alex swung her shovel over her shoulder and followed Dean back to the car. “We should get doughnuts,” she suggested as they tossed their things into the hatchback’s trunk. “Or french toast.” She climbed into the front seat ahead of Dean, looking back out over the graveyard. “I could totally go for some french toast.” 

They had barely made it down the road before Dean broke the silence that had quickly fallen over the car. “How are you doing?” When Alex didn’t immediately respond he elaborated, “I mean, the last few months have been rough for all of us, w-with the Leviathans and Cas.” 

Alex turned her head to look Dean square in the face. “You _really_ want to talk about this now?” 

The hunter gave a small shake of his head. “I’m just worried about you, Pip. You — your life has been one big shithole since you got here and things sure as hell aren’t getting any better.” 

“Yeah. Thanks for reminding me.” The young angel leaned her forehead against the cool glass. “I . . . I’m actually fine. I mean, I miss Cas but he isn’t dead. He’s _not_ ,” she added when Dean let out out a skeptical breath. “I guess . . . I’m just really lonely. I miss him.” In a small voice she added, “I don’t think angels are meant to be alone.” 

“You're not alone—”

“I mean from other angels. I — you and Sam are great and all, but it’s not the _same_.” Alex let out a breath, softening her voice. “But it’s okay. No one’s ever died from loneliness.” 

“Yeah, but thanks to that Vulcan mind-meld you’re seeing the devil too.” 

“I don’t mind.” The young angel shrugged but didn’t look over at Dean. “He . . . he kind of helps with the loneliness. He’s an angel after all. So I guess there’s at least some comfort there.” 

“Yeah, but he’s not _real_.” Alex turned to look at Dean, and after a second his eyes hardened in realization. “Son of a bitch.”

“Yeah. Ooh. Waffles.” Alex pointed out the window, hoping to change the topic of conversation. “Hungry?” 

It worked, and Dean turned the car off of the road.


	28. The Mentalists

**A** lex carried her meal out of Ribshack, delicately balancing her food in one hand, her drink in the other. She followed Dean down the rows of cars, frowning when they passed the dusty hatchback. “Dean . . .” She looked over to see him checking her phone. “Dean.” 

“Switching cars.” Dean stopped beside an old blue sedan, nodding appreciatively. 

Alex followed his lead, running her gaze across the car. “Challenger?” she guessed, voice rising in pitch to show her uncertainty. 

“You’re getting good.” Dean put his food down on the roof and pulled out a long car lock-pick. With a quick glance around he slid it down between the door and the window, fidgeting until the door popped open. 

Alex peered into the door, lip curling up at the amount of garbage that was sitting on the passenger seat. “Gross, man.” She yanked open her own door when Dean leaned across to unlock it, brushing the trash onto the floor with a disgusted swipe. She sat down with a bump, pulling her food close while Dean placed his meal on the seat beside her. 

“Geez,” Dean agreed. “Have some pride.” He reached under the car, and Alex dug out a waffle fry while the hunter hot-wired the vehicle. 

The engine purred to life seconds before the car was filled with a loud voice. “Ooh!” a voice boomed. “That makes me hungry!” 

Alex reached out to turn down the deafening volume while Dean pulled a pair of fluffy dice down from the rearview mirror and tossed them into the backseat with a noise of disgust. 

“You’re listening to the morning chaos with me, Banana Foster!” the radio continued.

“The hell I am, ass-hat.” Both Dean and Alex reached to turn the channel, already done with this man’s show. However, they paused at what she heard next. “And now for the news of weird — two very odd murders, to be exact. Mediums are dying in Lily Dale, the most _physic_ town in America! So if you want to know your future—”

The voice suddenly cut off as Alex turned the radio off. “Is it just me, or does that sound like a case?” she asked as she pulled another fry free. 

“Lily Dale’s in New York. We can be there by tomorrow morning.” Dean looked over at Alex, and she held out the fry, pushing it against his lips until he took it, grunting out his confused thanks. 

“Alright then. Lily Dale it is.” 

 

**April 14th, 2016**

**Lily Dale, New York**

**T** wenty four hours later Alex was leaning against the hood of the Challenger, wings flicking in distaste at the electrical charge in the air. “I don’t like it,” she finally said when Dean walked into earshot. “Too much . . . something. It’s fucking with my grace.” 

“Well, we get in, we get out. Shouldn’t be too hard. I’m thinking witches.” Dean opened the car door and got in, leaving Alex to follow.

“You sure this is a good idea?” Alex eventually said, glancing over at the Winchester. “You know, you walking straight into a crime scene? With cops? Or have you forgotten that you were on the FBI’s most wanted less than a fortnight ago?” 

“ ‘Fortnight?’ ” Dean repeated scoffingly. “Who says fortnight anymore?” 

“Yeah, besides the point, Winchester.” 

“We’ll be fine. They’re not going to suspect an FBI agent. Besides, you’ll be there. They’ll be looking for someone like Sam, not you.” 

“That really doesn’t console me.” 

“You sure you don’t just want to go look at the body?” 

Alex snorted in amusement. “The nearest morgue is twenty miles out. I think I’ll just stay here with you.” She turned her attention out the window, watching as the town past by. 

The Charger pulled up alongside a dark paneled house. “Come on.” Dean got out of the car, and Alex followed him up the steps and in though the heavy oak door. 

Dean immediately veered into the cluttered living room, ducking past some crime scene analysts, but Alex hung back, eyes searching out the lead officer. She spotted a large, thick man standing by the door, head bowed in conversation. “Excuse me.” Alex walked up, holding up her badge. “Do you have a moment?” 

The man dismissed the woman he was talking to before nodding. “Jeff Leman.” He nodded down at Alex, dark eyebrows raised as he asked, “How may I help you?” 

“Agent Burnley. Can you walk me through what happened here?” 

“Sure thing, miss.” Leman ran a thick hand through his grey hair as he continued. “Got the call last night. A couple were supposedly talking with a, uh, an Uncle Danny. That’s when the they claim the planchette rose up into the air and embedded itself in Grandma Goldy’s neck.”

“Grandma Goldy?” Alex repeated, an eyebrow cocked. 

“That’s her stage name,” the officer clarified. “Real name’s Evelyn Golden. Next of kin is Melanie Golden, lives just down the street.” 

“Okay. So they say a . . . a what flew into her throat?” 

“A planchette. Part of a Ouija board. You know, the triangle piece that the spirits move?” Skepticism lined the man’s voice, and Alex nodded politely. 

“You don’t seem like you believe their story.”

“You do? Trust me, when you’ve lived here as much as I have, you start to realize that there’s no such thing as paranormal.”

“Huh. Interesting.” Alex turned at Dean’s voice to see the hunter standing directly behind her. “You done?” 

“Yeah, just finishing up.” Alex dug one of her business cards of out her jacket pocket. “If anything else turns up, don’t hesitate to call.” 

“Sure thing.” Leman shoved the card into his pocket as Alex followed Dean out of the house. 

She hurried across the lawn to get to the Charger first. “How about breakfast?” she begged. “I’m hungry.”

“Aren’t you suppose to like, stop eating at some point?” When Alex made a confused noise Dean elaborated, “You know, being an angel and all. I mean, Cas never ate.”

Alex shrugged. “Food tastes weird to him. I dunno if that’s for all angels, just some, I don’t know. But I still like food. It’s yummy.” She pulled open the door and jumped into the seat. “Let’s see if there’s a cafe along Main Street.” 

Dean circled around to the driver’s side and got in. “Fine.”

 

 **O** nly a few minutes later Dean pulled the rusted old Charger up alongside the curb. The street was lined with cars, and the sidewalks bustled with people. Alex jumped out, head raised as she scented the air for food. “This way,” she urged, pointing down the street. People pushed past her, and Alex stepped out of the way, shaking her wings out to push away the indignity of being shoved aside 

“Come on.” Dean took the lead, and Alex hurried after him. Tables lined the sidewalks, all filled with psychics and their clients; some gazed into crystal balls, others traced their fingers across palms or tarot cards. The soft tinkling of wind chimes reached the angel’s ears before a soft spring breeze pushed past her face. 

She closed her eyes for the briefest of seconds before snapping them back open when Dean suddenly stopped. “Whoa!” She reeled backwards, wings flaring out to steady her. She immediately drew them back in when a stranger walked straight through them. “Watch it,”she muttered under her breath.

“What?” 

“Nothing.” Alex peered past Dean at the poster. “ ‘Lily Dale Psychic Festival,’ huh?” she read. “Fun.”

“Yeah. More importantly, food.” Dean led the way into the cafe the sign was sitting in front of. 

Alex stretched her grace out ahead, reeling it back in when her grace vibrated. “Fucking hate this,” she muttered, just loud enough for Dean to hear. “Too much power in the air. Some of these psychics must have actual juice.” She tucked her grace back inside her body, safe from the outside air. 

The inside of the Good Graces Cafe was nice and quaint, with large windows and bright, natural light. A large blackboard was mounted on the far wall, with the words _Special of the Day: You!_ and _Soup of the Day: A State of Bliss_ were written. Alex raised an eyebrow in amusement at the sight. 

“Hello!” A young man hurried over to them, a warm smile on his face. “First time at Good Graces?” he guessed. 

Dean nodded, eyes still flickering around the room. “Yes.”

“Well, we are 100% locally sourced, biodynamic, and you get a free affirmation with every order.”

“Think we’ll source out a taco joint.” Dean turned to go, but Alex reached out to stop him. That’s when a familiar voice reached her ears, and she turned, grace pulsing out to find the source. 

Dean must have heard it too, because he paused, and before he could say anything Alex hurried further into the cafe, tracking down the voice’s owner. “Sam!” she called, sliding to a stop in front of the hunter, eyes lighting up with joy. “I’d recognize that soul anywhere.” 

Sam looked up in shock and confusion. His gaze immediately hardened when it slipped past her. Dean stopped beside the half wall separating Sam’s table from the bottom level of the cafe. “You always wear a tie to get your palm read?” he teased amiably, walking around to stand in front of his brother, and Alex noticed that the hunter was in fact wearing a suit, his silver-striped tie hanging a little loose from his neck.

Sam’s gaze dropped to the folders in front of him, simply refusing to acknowledge Dean. The eldest Winchester didn’t seem to notice. “Yeah. Not surprised you caught this one. It’s on every morning zoo in America. You mind?” He motioned to the chair across from his brother. When Sam gave no response, he sat down. Alex pulled up a third chair, pulling her legs up to cross them under her. Sam leaned back, lips twisted downwards into a frown as he pulled the folders on the table into his lap. 

“So, I went to the scene,” Dean immediately continued, either not noticing or simply ignoring Sam’s coldness. “Wires, speakers, enough EMF to make your hair stand up. Don’t even think about getting your palm read. Oh, and, uh, if it hadn’t been two psychics that had been bit . . . I would have just chalked this up as being, uh, dumb and accidental.”

“Her throat got slashed by a Ouija board,” Alex retorted. “How exactly is that ‘accidental?’ ”

Dean shook his head. “I know, I know. But this whole town’s supposedly calling ghosts. But that takes some serious spellwork and some serious mojo. The only book this lady had were Oprah crap. When’s the last time you’ve even seen a real psychic? Huh? Pamela? Missouri?”

“But there’s definitely something here,” Alex continued. “I can feel it. I don’t know if it’s something powerful, or just a bunch of little stuff, but this town makes my wings curl. I, I mean, I can’t even search a room without feeling like I’ve been soul-raped.”

Dean nodded in agreement. “Anyways, this, this is good.” He motioned between the three of them. “And, how you been?” 

The waiter that had met them at the door walked up, a cup of coffee in his hand. He set it down next to Sam before looking down at Alex and Dean. “And what can I get for you?” 

“Uh, pancakes, side of pig. Coffee, black.” 

The waiter nodded. “Fantastic. You are a virile manifestation of the divine.” He turned to Alex, who was watching Dean’s unamused reaction. “And for you?”

Alex looked around. “I don’t think I’m hungry.”

“W-What?” Dean looked between Alex and the waiter before lowering his voice. “The reason we’re _here_ is cause you were starving.”

Alex shrugged. “I’m not hungry anymore. How about just some pancakes? Chocolate chip if you have any.”

“You are venerated even by the supernal.” The waiter smiled and walked away. 

Dean to shake his head, lowering his voice. “So what the hell did he say to me?” 

“I think he called you a sexy god,” Alex offered while Sam scoffed and shook his head, turning to look out over the rest of the restaurant. 

“Oh, it’s funny? Yeah, no. Go ahead. Laugh it up, Sam.” Dean knocked on the table. “Hilarious.” 

Sam looked down at his coffee, and Dean leaned back in his chair. For several seconds no one spoke, and then Sam raised his head. “Dean . . .”

“Oh, he speaks.” 

Sam stared at his brother, lips set in a firm line. “Look . . .”

“Sam.” Dean cut him off, leaning forward to put his elbows on the table . “Look, we’re both here, alright? The chance of any of us leaving while people are still dying out there . . .” He made a zero with his hand, clicking his tongue for emphasis. “You might as well bite the bullet and work with us on this one.” 

“I don’t know if I can.”

“I’m not asking you to open up a can of worms, okay? I’m not even asking where the hell you’ve been for the last week and a half.”  
 “Good.”

Dean stared at his brother, mouth hanging open for only a second at his brother’s blunt answer. “I’m just saying, let’s try and stop the killings,” Dean finished. “That’s it.” 

Sam hesitated before relenting. “Okay.”

“Okay? Good.” Dean nodded in agreement before leaning back in his chair. 

Alex shifted as the tension at the table faded, and looked up to see a red-headed woman staring at them, face one of shock and disbelief. “Hey, guys . . .”

Dean followed her gaze. “Can I help you?” 

The woman took a step closer, eyes flitting between Sam and Dean. “You — you’re the b-brothers from —” She reached into her purse and pulled out her cellphone 

“Oh no no no no no.” Sam hurriedly interjected himself, reaching out to stop her. “The Winchester guys from the news a couple weeks back?” He shook his head. “No — we get that a lot.”

Dean nodded in heavy agreement. “Yeah, no. Those depraved killers got put down like the dogs they were. Us, on the other hand — we’re completely harmless.”

“We’re actually the good guys,” Alex put in, motioning between herself and the Winchesters. 

The woman cast one more glance around their table before breaking into a relieved and embarrassed laugh. “Oh, yeah!” she exclaimed, stumbling forward to rest her hands on the half-wall beside them. “I’m sorry, silly me. And I can see by your energies, you’re completely gentle.” 

Alex let out an amused breath at that one, but just nodded in agreement as a man walked up to them. He put his arm around the woman’s shoulder. “Excuse my friend,” he apologized in a barely-noticeable Russian accent. “She’s excitable.” He looked down at the woman. “Sweetheart, look at them, hmm? They’re FBI.”

“Oh!” the woman exclaimed, both confused and surprised. 

“I’m Russian,” the man explained. “We can spot the law. You must be here about the tragedies.”

“Oh, we’re just beside ourselves about what happened,” the red-haired woman added passionately. 

Dean nodded. “Yeah. And so close to festival season, huh?” he added dryly. 

“Yeah — no —” The woman caught herself, confused. 

The man took over. “Of course we are worried. We have no idea what’s going on, huh?” He held out his hand towards Sam, a blue business card appearing between his fingers. “Nikolai. Let me know if I can help you. I’m highly intuitive.” 

Sam took the card, quickly skimming the few words printed there. “Nikolai Lishin, spoon bender?” 

“Mm. World famous.” The psychic picked up the spoon laying beside Sam. “Come to my demonstration at the festival, huh?” He held the spoon in front of his face, his other hand coming to rest beside in, fingers splayed in concentration. He made a small grunt, eyes falling shut. Then he snapped them open, placing the spoon back down on the table. “I teach you to harness the powers of your mind.” He turned back to the woman. “Come on, let’s let them be.”

They walked away, and Alex reached across the table, snatching up the spoon. It didn’t look any different, and she poked at the bowl, frowning when nothing happened. Sam took the spoon back out of her hands. 

Dean watched the two psychics return to their booth. “So glad we decided to take a little vacation here, right?”

Sam didn’t answer, but put the case files back on the table, pushing them towards Dean. “All right, here we go.” He opened up the top folder. “First death, second death.”

On top was a photograph of an old woman dressed in garb similar to that of a gypsy, and Alex shifted her chair closer to Dean to get a better view. Dean stared at it for a few seconds. “Alright, what am I looking at?” 

“Well, see this?” Sam pointed to the photo. “Now, this is Imelda Graven, death number one. She was brained to death by her own crystal ball.”

“Bummer. And ironic.” Dean flipped through the folder, stopping on a second photo, this one of a crime scene. Alex immediately placed it as the second death, the gruesome image matching the one the police officer had given her earlier that morning. A large Ouija planchette was sticking out of her neck, blood everywhere. 

Dean’s face grew thoughtful as he flipped back to the first photo. “Same necklace,” he observed, and Alex studied the jewelry hanging around Graven’s neck. A large, black, circular pendant hung from black beads, with red jewels embedded within. 

“Yeah,” Sam agreed. “See Imelda gave it to Goldy in her will.”

“Okay, so cursed object maybe?” 

Alex nodded in agreement. “That’d make sense. I wouldn’t be surprised to find something like that in a town like this.” 

“Yeah. It’s worth looking into.” Sam reached for the sugar that sat on the table. “Goldy’s next of kin lives in town. Also a psychic.” 

“Name’s Melanie Golden. The officer at the crime scene told me,” she clarified when Dean shot her a curious look. “I think she lives only a few blocks from here.” 

“Oh, good.” Dean closed the folder. “I haven’t had my fill.”

Sam grunted in agreement as he added sugar to his coffee. Then he picked up his spoon, face darkening. Alex tipped her head when he held it up to show the utensil bent at a ninety degree angle. “He broke my spoon.” The hunter dropped it on the table in disgust. “He fucking broke my spoon.” 

Dean picked it up, casting a wary and awed glance towards Nikolai, who sat deep in conversation at the booth. Then he put it back down, shaking his head. 

 

 **A** fter breakfast Dean led the way back out into the street. “Come on, I’m parked down this way.” 

“Yeah, well, I’m parked that way.” Sam pointed down the street, and Alex’s face lit up. “Maybe I’ll just meet you there.” 

Alex looked up at the hunter. “You still have her?”

“Why don’t you come with me?” Dean suggested. “Alex can meet us there.” 

Alex eagerly nodded, and Sam rolled his eyes. “Fine.” He fished the keys out of his pocket and tossed them to Alex. Then he walked off down the street with Dean.

Alex hurried off down the street, eyes brightening at the sight of the familiar blue car. “There you are,” she murmured, running her hands up the hood. “Hello, handsome.” She quickly unlocked the door and slid into the seat. She slid the key into the ignition, fingers dancing over the steering wheel as the engine purred to life. 

Out of the corner of her eye she saw the Charger speed past, and Alex quickly followed. 

 

 **A** few minutes later she pulled up behind the Charger and jumped out of the car. Sam and Dean were already up at the front door, talking with a young brunette Alex assumed to be Melanie. She hurried up the stairs, slipping by another young woman who seemed to be just leaving. “Sorry I’m late,” she interrupted. “Agent Burnley. I’m with these two.” She jerked a head towards Sam and Dean. 

“Yes. Uh, come in.” Melanie led the way into her bright house, so much unlike the dark, cluttered space of her grandma’s. “Sorry, I just got back,” she apologized, bending over by the coffee table where a suitcase lay. She hurriedly shoved the clothes back inside and closed it up. 

“You were out of town?” Dean prompted, looking around at the deep yellow walls. 

“Yeah. I work the circuit — hotels, conventions, you know.” Melanie straightened up and turned to face that three hunters. 

“Oh.” Dean turned his attention back to the woman. “Wait. No offense, but . . . you don’t seem all that psychic.” 

A short pause while Melanie looked between Sam and Dean. “Why do you say that?” 

“Well, I mean, you know, where’s all the . . . crystals and pyramids?” 

“I’m off the clock. And also not psychic.” She shrugged when Dean looked confused. “What?” she defended. “It’s an honest living.” 

“Interesting definition of honest.” 

“Well, I honestly read people. It’s just less woo-woo, more body language. Like you two.” She motioned to Sam and Dean. “Long time partners, but, um . . . a lot of tension. You’re pissed,” she gestured to Sam, and then to Dean. “And you’re stressed.” She glanced over at Alex. “And she’s . . . lonely.” 

Alex straightened her back, eyes narrowing warily, but said nothing. 

Melanie turned back to the Winchesters. “It’s not brain surgery. It’s kind of why me and my grandma didn’t get along. I mean, she’d go full-smoke machine, but she actually believed in all that stuff, so . . .”

“You don’t?” 

Melanie looked up at Dean. “You do?” 

“I’ve got an open mind,” Dean promised. “You’d be surprised.” 

The young woman made a disbelieving noise, and Sam cleared his throat. “I’m sorry to have to ask,” he began, steering the conversation back on topic, “b-but there’s a necklace of your grandmother’s —” 

“Don’t have it. Everything went straight to the Emporium. She had a deal with the owner.” 

“The Emporium?” 

“Yeah. South side of town on the corner of 13th. You can’t miss it. The, uh, owner’s name is Jimmy Tomorrow.” 

Sam and Dean exchanged looks before Sam spoke again. “Thank you for your time. If there’s anything else you can think of, don’t hesitate to give us a call.” Dean handed Melanie one of his cards before they dismissed themselves. 

“So to the Emporium, huh?” Alex hurried down the steps ahead of the Winchesters. “Meet you there?” 

“Hang on.” Dean reached out to slow her down. “Now there’s no point in driving around two gas guzzlers, okay? Why don’t we drop your car off somewhere safe?” He turned to his brother. “Where are you staying?” 

Sam’s face darkened, but after a few seconds he answered. “Abandoned house at the corner of 5th.” 

“Or I could just get us a motel room,” Alex suggested. “My face wasn’t on the news; nobody’s going to recognize me in that place. Plus it’s such a small town.”

Sam and Dean exchanged looks, and then Dean nodded. “Yeah, let’s do that. You get a room and we’ll leave your car there. ” 

Alex frowned, fingers curling around the keys in her pocket. “Why don’t we take my car instead, huh? It’s in a lot better shape, _plus_ we actually have the keys.” She pulled them out of her pocket and dangled them in front of Dean. “I’ll even let you drive.”

Dean looked hesitant, but Sam nodded. “That thing’s a piece of crap,” he agreed, motioning towards the charger. 

“Fine.” 

 

 **T** hey were at the Emporium twenty minutes later. Dean led the way in, and Alex looked around, taking in the packed shelves. She shivered, the atmosphere pressing down on her. She hurried after the Winchesters, keeping her grace locked tightly away. 

A short, scrawny man sat behind the glass counter; when the approached he looked up, dark eyes gleaming. “You’re . . . looking for something,” he decided.

Sarcasm lined the eldest Winchester’s voice. “You’re good.”

“You Jimmy Tomorrow?” Sam asked. 

“Mm-hmm.”

“We’re looking for a necklace.” 

Jimmy looked between Sam and Dean, gaze only briefly flickering towards Alex. “Ooh. Romantic.” 

Dean rolled his eyes, and Alex did the same. Sam continued, not very amused himself; however, he managed to keep his voice professional. “It would have come in with Grandma Goldy’s effects.” He pulled the folded photo of Imelda Graven out of his suit pocket and laid it on the table, finger resting on the image of the necklace.

“Oh, yes, yes.” Jimmy stood up off of his stool. “Now, you do know this is the Orb of Thessalay.”

“No, we did not.” Dean watched as Jimmy ducked beneath the counter before shaking his head, mouthing _Orb of Thessaly_ to himself in disbelief. 

Jimmy heaved a large, wooden box onto the table. “Yes. Very powerful, very rare.”

 

 **“V** ery fake.” Alex tossed the necklace over to Sam, lengthening her stride to reach the car first. “Thing’s got as much juice as a toaster strudel.” She leaned against the car hood, watching as the Winchester’s caught up. “No. There was something powerful in there. Or someone. I don’t know. I didn’t check. But I felt it.”

“Something powerful like . . .”

“I have no idea. Cursed object, psychic, hell, it could have been that wall of crystal balls.” She shrugged. “Point is that necklace ain’t it.” 

“It’s fake,” Sam agreed, tossing to his brother. “Made in Taiwan.”

“Oh, a fake around here. Imagine that.” Dean unlocked the Marquis’ door and opened it. “Course, that mean’s whatever’s killing those mediums is still out there.” 

“Yeah.” Alex slid off of the hood and got into the backseat. “And we’ve got squat.” 

 

 **W** ith no other leads, the rest of the afternoon was spent in the motel. As the afternoon rolled into the evening, Alex stood up, stretching her arms above her head. “I’m gonna go talk to Sam,” she told the other Winchester. “Think you’re gonna need me to clear out for the night . . ?” 

Dean shook his head. “Nah. I’m not going out.” 

“Okay, sounds good.” Alex grabbed her phone and stuffed it in her pocket before exiting the motel. She got into her car and drove three blocks down to the corner of 5th and Blaine. She pulled her car up alongside the old, foreclosed house and hurried up the steps to the front door. 

There was no movement through the window that she could see, and she rapped twice on the heavy wooden door. Footsteps preceded the door cracking open, and then there was a lout exhale. “What do you want?” 

Alex peered up at the hunter and shrugged. “Just wanted to talk. Let me in,” she prompted, nudging at the door with her foot. 

With a sigh, Sam did so. “Why?” 

“I haven’t seen you in over a week. You haven’t answered my calls — I’ve been worried.” Alex pushed her way inside, glancing about bare living room before turning to face the Winchester. “Come on. I get why you’re avoiding Dean and all, but what have you got against me?” 

Sam locked the door behind him and walked to the other side of the room, a large hand swiping through his hair in agitation. “Y-You — you’re not better than he is,” he finally snapped. “I mean, they were working it out —”

“Are you talking about the _witches_?” Alex stared at Sam in disbelief. “You mean the couple who killed five people? Of course I killed them. Hell, you and Dean would have done the same.”

“No. Dean would have done the same. Don’t you see?” Sam sat down at a small wooden table. “The both of you. You shoot first, ask later. We use to save people. Now it feels like all we do it take lives.” 

Alex walked over to the hunter and sat down on the chair opposite from him. “That’s not the reason you’re avoiding me,” she deduced. “I mean, I get why you’re pissed at Dean. But that’s not a good enough reason to be pissed at me personally.” When Sam remained silent, she nudged him with her foot. “Come on, Sam. We can’t make it better if you don’t tell me.”

Sam looked away. “It’s nothing.” 

“Sorry.” A pseudo-apologetic came from their left. “I get bored when you’re away.” Alex turned her head to see Lucifer seated backwards on one of the table chairs, amusement glittering in his blue eyes. 

Her wings flared out in anger, but her voice remained cold. “What did you tell him?” 

“ ‘Tell him?’ ” the devil repeated thoughtfully. “Oh, nothing much. No, I just dropped a few hints. You know, just enough to get those wheels turning.” 

Sam dug his thumb into the palm of his hand, and the devil disappeared. “What was he talking about?” he pressed. “He says we’re . . . connected.” 

“Oh dammit.” Alex brought her hands up to her head. “That son of a bitch.” 

“What’s he talking about?” 

Alex pulled her feet up onto the chair, burying her face in her knees to hide the blush. “That son of a bitch,” she repeated, shaking her head. Then she looked up, letting out a long breath. “You didn’t talk back to him, right?” 

“Alex.” 

“Lucifer’s real,” she said brusquely. “He’s not just some hallucination. Well, he is. But he’s not something you just made up. He . . . some of his grace held onto your soul when Death pulled it out.” She hesitated before adding, “I have some of his grace in me too. A lot more than you do, actually. I told you I had dreams about him, right? When If first became an angel Cas . . . wasn’t around much and Luce kind of . . . helped me with . . . with adjusting. His grace keeps my heat minimal and kind of helps with healing.” 

“Okay.” Sam seemed both interested and impatient. “What’s that got to do with this . . . this connection?” 

“Don’t you feel it? Sort of the, the pull towards each other — I don’t know if you can feel it; maybe there’s not enough grace in —”

“Alex.” 

“I’m serious about not talking to him. The less you talk to him the less grip he has on your mind. If we need to talk to him, I’ll do it. He can’t dig himself in deeper to you if you’re not the one acknowledging him.”

“But won’t he just get a stronger grip on you?” 

“Yeah, maybe. The difference being he’s welcome in my mind. I —”

Sam cut her off. “Get back to the point,” he urged. “The ‘connection.’ ”

“I’m not attracted to you, Sam. It’s the two parts of Lucifer’s grace trying to reconnect. That’s what the pulling is. That’s why I’ve been so, so . . . clingy. And why I’ve found so much comfort in you since Cas left —” She cut herself off. “Sorry.” 

“No, no. It’s fine.” Sam leaned forward, still curious. “That’s, uh, that explains a lot, actually. But it’s kind of weird.”

“Yeah. Tell me about it.” Alex dropped her feet back down to the floor. “I mean, I think part of it is that Lucifer’s grace is trying to reconnect, but I think there’s also a part of my grace that’s reaching for it. Angels aren’t meant to be alone, Sam. I mean, the male angels too, but especially us females. We were _designed_ to always have companionship. It was hard enough even when Cas was around. Now it’s just impossible.”

“Yeah, I, I still don’t get that.” Sam got up and walked over to the cooler next to the empty fireplace. “Drink?” When Alex gave her consent he returned with two cans of beer. “Kinda seems like, uh, female angels — is there a word for that?” 

“ _Enaiish_.” Alex jumped at the soft voice, and turned her head to see Lucifer sitting beside her. His blue eyes flickered across her face, and a barely visible smile twisted his lips upwards. His emotions, his posture, everything about him was so different than it had been when he had first appeared, and Alex immediately knew what was different. The devil gave a small nod, knowing exactly what she was thinking. “He can’t see me,” he promised before nodding towards Sam. “Tell him.”

Alex turned back to Sam, who was watching her curiously. “Sorry,” she mumbled. “Uh, _enaiish_. It’s a, uh, a combination of _enay_ which means angel and _aiish_ , the Enochian word for female. It also means treasured,” she added when Lucifer prompted her to do so. “So it roughly translates to ‘female angel’ or ‘angel who is treasured.’ ” She cracked open her drink and took a small sip. 

“Huh. Well, it kind of seems like they drew the short stick, don't you think? I mean, being tied down and all. I — know what I mean?” 

Lucifer made an hurtful noise, and Alex shrugged. “It’s not exactly the best suited for this life style,” she agreed. “But I don’t really mind it anymore. I’ve made my choice and I’ve made my peace. Plus the wings are hella cool.” She flapped hers twice for emphasis, even though the gesture remained unseen. 

“You do have beautiful wings,” Lucifer agreed, and Alex blushed, turning her head away slightly. “I haven’t seen them in a long —” He flickered once, his words cutting out.

Even still, Alex’s wings fluttered slightly at his words, and she let out a long breath, standing up. “You had dinner yet?” she asked.

“Yeah. I just got back. There’s a sub shop within walking distance.”

“Huh.” Alex turned her head when Lucifer flickered again, the annoyance at the quickly-failing bond evident across his face. “Okay, cool. I think me and Dean are calling in a pizza later. You’re welcome to join if, you know, you want to talk with Dean —”

“I’m fine, actually. Strictly business.” 

“Oh.” Alex’s face fell. “Okay. I should be going then.” She set her beer down on the table. “See you tomorrow.” 

 

 **A** hand came down on her thigh, and Alex jumped, suddenly wide awake, fingers tightening on the corner of the scratchy motel comforter. “What the —”

“Up and at ‘ems.” Dean slung his tie around his neck. “New day, new victim.” He glanced down at Alex, who was still tangled up among the sheets. “Come on, Pip. We’re meeting Sam in ten.” 

“Ten,” Alex repeated, rolling out of bed. “Ugh.” She stumbled into the bathroom to take a look at her messy hair. “What do we know? Anything?” She kicked the door closed behind her as she reached for her toothbrush.

“Nothing really. Got an address and a name. Here’s the kicker. Vic is Nikolai Lishen.”

“Nikolai?” Alex leaned out of the bathroom, face scrunched up in sympathy and a toothbrush sticking out of her lips. “Not spoon bender Nikolai.” When Dean nodded she frowned. “I liked him. He was Russian.” She ducked back into the bathroom to spit before hurrying back out to her bag. She dropped her dress pants on the bed before adding, “Anything else?” 

“Nope.” 

“Okay. Give me five minutes. We should grab some coffee on the way.” 

 

 **O** nly fifteen minutes later Alex found herself pushing her way past the EMTs and the body bag. The house was still crawling with police, and the stench of blood was heavy in the air. She quickly found herself in the living room, gaze on the bloodstained coffee table. Silver utensils were scattered across the ground as well, also drenched in drying blood. 

“He probably should have bent those with the power of his mind,” Dean half-joked under his breath. He looked up at Sam for approval, but the younger Winchester walked away towards a very familiar face. 

“Chief. We met at the station.”

“Right.” Jeff Leman looked up from where he was writing in his notepad. “Morning, Agent.” His gaze slid over to Alex and Dean and he nodded. “See you brought your friends.” 

“Yeah. Uh, this is Agent Borne and Burnley.” He motioned to Dean and Alex in turn. “So, what happened?” 

“It’s a weird one,” the man admitted gruffly. “Chest full of cutlery.”

“All right,” Dean agreed. “Well, we’re going to take a look around. Let us know if you get any leads.”

“Oh, I have leads coming out of my ass,” Leman huffed. “As of 9 o’clock, our tip line had forty six calls, all from clairvoyants who know what _really_ happened.”

When he didn’t continue Dean pressed, “What’s the popular theory?”

“It’s a toss-up between a ghost and some sort of ogre that only attacks Russians.”

“Policing Lily Dale sounds like fun.”

“It was either this or Los Angeles.”

“So, these clairvoyants,” Sam began, “did they give any details as to why they thought it was a ghost? Or a . . . Russian ogre?” 

“Their spirit monkey said so,” the officer said scoffingly. “Plus, apparently this guy claims he had a vision of his own death, cutlery and all.” 

At that moment Dean’s phone rang, and he looked down at the number. “Excuse me.” He walked away, leaving Alex and Sam with Chief Leman. “That’s interesting,” Alex admitted. “Uh, where did you hear that?” 

“Girlfriend. She’s the one who found him.” He motioned around him. “If you don’t mind, I have things to do.” 

“Yeah. You do that.” Alex watched him leave before looking up at Sam. “Well, whatever’s doing this certainly has a sense of humor. Crystal ball lady gets brained, Goldy gets a planchette to the neck while communicating with the dead, and know our Russian spoon-bender’s got a chest full of silverware.” She winced at the thought. “Not the most pleasant way to go.” 

Sam grunted in agreement. 

Dean appeared behind them. “Melanie called. Says she’s got something we need to hear. We done?” 

“Yeah. There’s not much here except an overwhelming sense of irony.” Alex motioned towards the door. “We should probably go.” 

Dean nodded and led the way out of the house. “She’s just a few blocks away,” he said casually as he unlocked the car door and slid in. “Nice thing about small towns.” 

Sam got in beside him. “Just drive.” 

 

 **T** hree minutes later they were knocking on Melanie’s door. It opened, and a wide-eyed woman stood there. “Agents.” She ushered them inside and into the living room. She picked up the house phone off of the coffee table and sank down into the armchair. “I hadn’t checked it until today,” she said when all three had sat down on the couch. “I mean, the only person who ever called my landline was my grandma.” 

“That’s okay,” Sam promised. “Go on.”

“Look, I wouldn’t put any stock in it. I mean, she was always calling me with some crazy dream she was sure was a sign, that kind of thing but . . . uh, is it true Nikolai had a, a real vision of his death?” 

Sam and Dean exchanged looks before Dean nodded. “That’s what we were told.” 

“Well, you can listen to it if you want.” She put the phone down on the coffee table. “She said she was in a seance, then the lights go, it’s freezing —” 

“Wait. She said that?” Sam shifted in his seat, leaning forward. “That the room got cold?” 

“Yeah. Why?” Melanie tipped her head. “Is that important.” 

Once again Sam and Dean exchanged glances. Alex spoke before they could. “Yeah, it definitely means something. We might know what we’re dealing with.”

“You do? Who?” 

“Not who. What.” 

“A ghost,” Dean said bluntly. “The real deal.”

“Come on.” The young brunette let out a disbelieving smile which quickly faded when she saw no one else shared in her amusement. “You’re serious.”

“Yeah. You see, there’s, uh, fake woo-woo crap, and then there’s real woo-woo crap.” 

“Well, yeah,” Melanie half-agreed, “but . . . ghosts?” 

“Oh, trust me. There’s a lot weirder things out there.” 

Melanie stared at Dean before swinging her gaze over to Sam. “So . . . ‘X-Files’ are real, or you just stopped talking like a real FBI agent.” 

Alex let out a noise of amusement. “Yeah. About that . . .”

“We’re not really FBI,” Sam admitted. 

Melanie was completely silent for several long seconds. “I need a drink.” 

“I support that.” 

Alex nudged Dean in the foot. “We really can’t stay long,” she apologized. “I mean, this thing’s striking hard and it’s striking fast. We need to find out who it is and where they’re buried before something else happens. If it’s even a ghost.” 

Sam nodded in agreement. “We really should be going. Uh, if anything else does turn up, call. The sooner we find this thing the better.” He stood up, holding out his hand. “I’m Sam, by the way. That’s Dean, and that’s Alex.” He gestured towards each of them in turn with his head. “So, yeah.” 

 

 **“T** hat went well,” Alex muttered, picking up her pace as she jogged down the stairs that led down to the sidewalk. “Now what? I mean, a ghost? How’re we going to track down that one? It’s jumping all over the place!” 

“Yeah,” Dean agreed, “if it is a spirit, it ain’t your average spook tied to a house.”

“Not surprised.” Sam looked around the neighborhood before gesturing to the house across the street, where a large sign hung by the window. “I mean, how many crystal ball do you figure are in Lily Dale?” 

“Somewhere between fifty and, uh, _all of them_.” 

“Well, I mean, quartz can act as an antenna for spirits, right? That’s why mediums started using crystal balls in the first place.” 

Alex nodded, mentally counting up all of the psychic signs she could see as she followed the Winchesters down to the car . “It’s like everyone here is a damn psychic,” she added. “I bet every house has at least one.” 

“Which means that every storefront and house in town has a ghost satellite dish.” 

“Exactly. And this place is packed with people summoning spirits.” 

Dean let out a scoffing noise. “Yeah, but dude, most of these people couldn’t even summon a taxi,” he joked. 

“All it takes is one.” 

Dean looked over at his brother, the reality of their situation becoming clear. “That’s like looking for a needle in a stack of fake needles.”

“It’s worse. I mean, I’ll bet you anything some of these guys have real juice. I’m not talking killing-people level. I’m just saying, enough to make it complicated.” 

“Tell me about it,” Alex added. “I can _feel_ the juice. There’s definitely some people here who can do some low-level psychic shit.”

“I hate this town.” Dean threw open the Charger’s door. “So what? Start by hitting up the Miss Cleos?” 

“I was thinking splitting up and canvass. It’s faster.” Sam walked away, leaving Alex and Dean staring after him. 

“Right. Course you were,” Dean grumbled. He looked over at Alex, who was still watching Sam leave. “Well, you with me?” 

“Yeah. Sure thing.”

 

 **T** hey were driving slowly down through the south side of town when Dean got the call. He looked over at Alex, surprised, before answering it. “Hello?” He raised his eyebrows. “Melanie?” 

Alex shifted curiously, pulling her ringing grace back into her body. They had been zigzagging though Lily Dale, and Alex had been doing her best to feel if there was anything powerful in the area. _What’s up?_ she mouthed to the Winchester. 

He held up a finger to silence her. “Yeah, of course. I can be right over.” He hung up and shoved his phone back into his suit pocket. “Looks like we got a lead.” 

“What happened?” 

“One of Melanie’s friends had a vision. About her death.” Dean turned the Charger down the street, slowly picking up speed. “This might be the best lead we’re gonna get.” He turned down a suburban street and only a few minutes later pulled up alongside the curb. 

Alex got out, looking around. “That didn’t take long.”

“Yeah. Good thing we were close.” Dean got out of the car just as another car pulled up.

Melanie got out, surprise written across her face at the sight of them already being there. “That didn’t take long.”

“We were in the area.” Dean followed her up to the front door where Melanie rang the doorbell. 

A few seconds later the door opened to reveal another young woman, and Alex immediately recognized her as the woman who she had seen leaving Melanie’s house the day before. Her black, curly hair was pulled back by a yellow bandana, sitting in sharp contrast to her dark skin. She looked skeptically between Dean and Alex. 

“It’s okay,” Melanie promised. “Like I said on the phone, they can help.”

The woman opened the door, walking back into the house. “Phony lawmen, huh?”

“Yeah, cause nobody can related to phony around here,” Dean retorted, looking around at the black and white flowered wallpaper. 

“Well, if you can do something, I don’t care if you call yourself the Pope.” 

“Alright, what happened, exactly?” 

“What happened was I had a freaking vision.” The woman’s voice rose in fear. “Something is _coming_ for me.”

“What’s coming?” Dean pressed. “Did you get a good look?” 

“No. But I sure felt it when it started breaking my bones.” 

“Breaking your bones?” Alex repeated. “Uh, tell me. So when you do your, uh, psychic . . . stuff, you work with bones then, don't you?” 

“How do you know?” 

“Our ghost seems to have a sense of irony,” Alex muttered. “Graven with the crystal ball, Nikolai with the spoons . . .” She trailed off when the woman’s face grew even paler, and she realized she wasn’t really helping. “My name’s Alex, by the way,” she added. “You are?” 

“Camille.” 

“Ah. Nice to meet you.” Alex looked around the house. “So. What happened in the vision? Anything important clues? Apart from you dying, of course. Uh, time of day? Was it dark outside?”

“Uh, the clock read 2 am.”

“Where’d it happen?” Dean pressed. 

“By the cash box.” Camille pointed to the metal box that was sitting on the desk, and Dean wandered over to it, leaving Alex to look over the rest of the room. 

“There any chance good-looking was watching?” Dean asked suddenly, and Alex looked up, following his gaze to a large African-style mask that hung on the wall. After a second she realized that there was a camera mounted in the left eye, and she quirked an eyebrow in surprise. 

Camille hesitated before nodding. “Yeah. This way.” She pulled the mask off of the wall and led the way to the kitchen where a computer was sitting on the grant counter. She sat down, hooked up two wires, and only a few seconds later she had the video footage pulled up. “Here.” She stood back up, letting Dean take the reins. 

Dean sat down and pressed play, and Alex leaned against his shoulder to watch as Camille counted the cash in the metal box on the table. She closed it, picked it up, and had taken three steps towards the camera before she suddenly froze. The the footage broke up into static. 

“What was that?” Alex looked back to see Camille pointing at the screen.

Dean dragged the video back several seconds and then used the arrow to move the video up frame by frame until they could clearly see a woman standing in the doorway. She was pale, and dressed in an old-fashioned black dress, but was too far away to make out any facial features. 

“What the hell?” Melanie sounded just as terrified. 

“Oh my God.”

Dean played the video again slowly, and suddenly the ghostly woman surged forward until she was behind Camille, hands resting on either side of her head. Camille’s eyes rolled back into her head until only the whites were visible, and then the video returned to static. 

“Oh my God!” Camille took a step back, a hand coming up to her chest in shock. 

“W-Was that, I mean, an actual —”

“Bona fide,” Dean confirmed. “Yeah. Well, no offense, but nobody’s having psychic visions around here. This spirit, uh, whoever she is, is giving them out.” 

“And then killing people?” Melanie finished, horrified. 

“Until we stop her. Well, the good news is you saw the clock and it read 2am, so that gives us a little time. Now, does anybody recognize this chick?” 

Melanie leaned in, eyes narrowed in concentration. “You know, I swear I’ve seen her, like in a painting or something.”

“A painting? Like a —” 

“No, not a painting,” Melanie corrected, recognition lighting up her eyes. “In one of those old photos in the museum.”

“The museum,” Dean repeated, standing up. “Okay, good. We’ll go see if we can get an ID on her.” 

“I’ll stay here,” Alex volunteered. “I mean, museum’s aren’t really my thing, and I think having an angel around in case this thing goes south would be a pretty good idea.” 

Dean nodded almost immediately. “Yeah, good idea. I’ll go get Sam. We’ll call with anything new.” Then he left, leaving Alex alone with the two woman. 

“I-I’m sorry.” Camille still looked pretty shaken up. “Did — Did you say ‘angel?’ ”

“Yeah. Hi. Angel of the Lord.” Alex gave a small wave. “Point is I’ll keep you safe, okay?”

“Like an a-actual angel. With wings.” 

“Yup.” Alex nodded slowly. “Wings. And, uh . . . other powers.” She looked over at the salt-shaker on the table and flicked out her grace, tugging it into her hands. “See?” 

“Holy shit.” 

 

 **T** he day passed and night came. Dean had called a few hours back saying they had identified the ghost as a Kate Fox, the sister of Margret Fox. Both had been part of the town’s founders, and both apparently psychic. They were going to burn the bones later that night, under the guise of darkness. Alex had nodded in agreement, sliding a chip into her mouth as she watched the two woman pace about. 

It was 1:50 am. Melanie had insisted that they go out to the diner, but even there the tension was palpable, and Alex was beginning to show signs of nervousness. Her fingers drummed on the wooden table, and her grace toyed with the angel blade that was sitting against her arm, even though she wasn’t sure how useful it would be against a ghost. She shifted, really not sure _what_ of hers would work against a ghost; her heart thumped at the realization that she had never actually gone face to face with one since she became an angel. 

Alex’s phone rang, and she jumped with a stuttered curse. “What?” she snapped. 

“Whoa, calm down there, Feathers.” 

“Dean” Alex’s shoulders fell as she let out a relieved breath. “Well?” 

“You sound kind of stressed.” 

“Course I’m stressed. I’m surrounded by two highly stressed people. It’s contagious, you know.” Alex ran a hand through her hair. “Well, how’d it go?” 

“Everything’s taken care of. Bones are burned.”  
 “Okay, great. I’ll meet you back at the motel.” Alex hung up. “Dean says they took care of it. It’s over.” 

Both Camille and Melanie let out relieved smiles. “Okay, so what?” Camille asked. “We — I just go home?” 

“I guess,” Melanie shrugged. She didn’t miss, however, the worried look that flitted across her friend’s face. “Tell you what. Why don’t you come stay with me for a couple of days.” 

The relieved smile was back. “Thanks.” She stood up, and Melanie and Alex followed. “And thanks for sticking around too,” she added to Alex.

“Yeah, no problem. Hey, uh, I’ll just go back to the house with you too, okay?” Alex looked down at her watch. 1:52. “Just until it’s past 2. I doubt anything’s going to happen, but it’ll make me feel a hell of a lot better just to be sure, okay?” The concern was back across their faces, but Alex wasn’t swayed. “Please? Burning the bones always works. I just want to be completely sure nothing else happens.” 

Camille nodded. “Okay, thanks. We can drop you off at the motel afterwards.”

“Yeah. Sounds good.” Alex followed them out to Melanie’s car. 

 

 **F** ive minutes later she was leaning against the granite island, watching as Camille hurried down the stairs, her bag slung over her shoulder. “Just one more minute,” she promised.

Melanie nodded in understanding. “It’s fine, hon.”

Camille hurried to the far end of the living room. “Oh, if you had that vision, you wouldn't want to be here either,” she half-joked. Then she froze. 

The cuckoo came alive, chiming twice, declaring for all that it was 2 o’clock. Melanie saw her friend’s fear and hurried forward. “Camille, it’s okay. Let’s just go.” 

Then the entire atmosphere changed, and Alex pushed herself off of the counter as energy crackled through the air. The fireplace roared to life, flames bursting into existence, and the lights flickered violently. “Dammit, Winchesters,” she cursed. “Call them back,” she snapped to Melanie. “Now.” She pointed to Camille. “Get out of the house.”

Camille nodded, eyes wide, and she bolted towards the door. Alex heard the lock click into place seconds before the woman reached it. “It’s locked!” 

“Then get back here.” Alex grabbed the box of salt off of the counter, a precaution she had sought out earlier. “In here.” She ran into the kitchen and threw open the fridge door. “This spirit isn’t fucking around,” she muttered as she pulled out the maple syrup before tossing it to Camille. “Quick. Circle. Big enough for you to stand in.” 

“What the hell?” 

“Just do it!” Alex shoved the salt onto the counter and grabbed the bottle out of the woman’s hands when she hesitated, ripping off the cap to draw a thick circle on the linoleum floor. “This better fucking work.”

“What are you doing?” Melanie watched with wide eyes as Alex completed it and reached for the salt, the phone in her hands. 

“Salt.” Alex shook the container for emphasis. “Ghosts can’t stand it.” She poured the salt into the syrup, making sure it stayed in a continuous line. “Most of the time just a salt line on the floor will do. But sometimes the stronger ghosts gets bitchy and blow the line away. The syrup should help it stay put. She finished and straighten up. “Hey! What did I say? Winchesters. Now.” 

She hurried into the living room and grabbed the iron pokers from the stand. “Here.” She handed one to Camille, who was still standing in the circle. “Don’t you dare leave that circle, you understand? Under no circumstances do you leave.” 

Camille nodded, eyes wide, and Alex stomped over to Melanie, snatching the phone out of her hands and shoving the poker into them instead. “Dean. It didn’t work.”

“Alex?” 

“The ghost is still coming, man. You sure you burned the right bones?” 

“Yeah. Kate Fox. She put up a fight, too.” 

“Great. And she burned up?” 

“Yeah.” 

“So that means Kate isn’t our perp. Which means she was probably just warning the people, which means we’ve now lost our only damn lead.” The air grew cold, and Alex’s wings flared out. “Get inside the circle,” she snapped to Melanie. 

“What’s going on?” 

“She’s coming, that’s what. I’ve got them in a salt circle. I stuck it to the floor with syrup; hopefully that’ll keep the salt down when she tries to blow it away. She’s a powerful one, Dean. I can feel it.” Her fingers tightened around the iron poker. “I don’t know how long I can hold her off.” 

“We’re on our way,” Dean promised. “We —”

Alex tossed Melanie the phone as a woman appeared in front of them. “She’s here!” she yelled, loud enough for Dean to probably here. She positioned herself in between the woman and Camille. “Who are you?” she demanded. 

The woman’s pale lips twisted into a cruel smile, and she raised her hand. Alex felt dark, cold energy collide with her grace, and she fought back, pushing it away. She didn’t miss the flicker of surprise on the ghost’s face, and that gave her all the confidence she needed. “I’m an angel, bitch.” She lunged forward, poker cutting through the ghost. She disappeared like smoke, and Alex retreated to her spot, wings flaring out to protect the people behind her. 

The ghost appeared again, this time right in front of Alex, and she barely had enough time to raise her weapon. The tip cut through her chest, and the ghost hissed in pain. Alex recoiled as a hand reached out, lashing out and dispersing the ghost again.

Suddenly the lights and the fire completely died. For several, long seconds everything was completely silent. “Alex?” Dean’s voice came through, and Alex jumped. 

“God dammit, Dean. Don’t do that,” she hissed. “I’m kind of busy.” 

“What does she look like?” 

“Uh, what?” Alex narrowed her eyes in confusion. “I don't know.” 

“She’s the other Fox,” Melanie quickly said. “The sister. I’ve seen her before. She has to be.” 

“We’re going back to the graveyard,” Dean told them. “Burn the bones. How long can you hold her off?” 

“I don’t know. Indefinitely? I’m an angel, but I can’t _kill_ her.” 

“Do the best you can.” Dean hung up, and the room fell back into silence. 

Alex took a step forward when nothing else happened. “Stay put,” she hissed before pulsing her grace out through the room. 

Something heavy and black came flying out of nowhere, catching the angel on the head. She was knocked to the ground and the room spun. She cursed as she rolled over, cursing again as a cold, transparent hand dug into her chest. Her grace screamed in protest, and then suddenly Lucifer’s grace sprung to life, exploding through her body. 

There was a shriek, and the pain was gone. Alex opened her eyes in time to see Margret Fox flicker away, and she let out a loud groan, thankful for the short reprieve. 

“W-What was that?” Camille’s voice quivered. “What did you do?” 

“Angel things.” Alex heaved herself to her feet, grace still shaking from the intrusion. “S-Spirits. They’re pure energy. So’s my grace. Soul. Thing.” Her head pounded and she closed her eyes. “They don’t mix well. I think.” She staggered, leaning back against the counter. “If that thing comes back and gets in range, take a swing, okay?” 

“Are you okay?” 

“I’ll live. I — I’m going to try and call in some backup.” Alex closed her eyes, focusing her prayers. _Ezekiel? I’m in trouble. I need your help ASAP._ The air grew colder, and Alex squeezed her eyes tighter. _This it literally life and death_. She snapped her eyes open when the windows burst open and Melanie screamed as the wind slowly but surely ate away at the salt line. The syrup held on, but began to shift under the mighty gusts. Alex sprang forward, iron poker swinging through the air, but something caught her on the side, knocking her away. 

Then the ghost was simply gone, and the wind died. Alex struggled back to her feet when Melanie screamed again, wings raised in alarm. Then they dropped low in greeting. “You’re here,” she said, practically purring in relief. 

Ezekiel stood by the darkened fridge, dark blue eyes studying Alex closely. “I’ll never understand your profession,” he finally said. 

“Someone’s got to do it.” Alex pusher her grace out, searching for the ghost. “Thanks for showing up.” 

“You won’t find her here.” Ezekiel snapped his fingers, and the lights flickered back on, bathing the room in light and letting himself be fully seen to the other young woman. He was still wearing his typical suit pants and white button down, with a striped blue tie hanging loosely around his neck. His light grey wings curled forward as he approached, brushing along the insides of Alex’s in greeting. “I sent her to her remains. She won’t be back for at least eighteen hours.” 

“Thanks.” Alex peered past him to where Camille and Melanie were still standing in fear. “You can step out of there now,” she told them. “This is Ezekiel. He’s an angel.” 

Ezekiel turned, dipping his head in a formal greeting. “I’m glad to see everyone is alright.” He turned back to Alex. “I can stay, if you wish. I am not needed in heaven at this time.” 

“Thanks.” Alex rubbed her temple, wincing at the pain. “She threw something at me,” she explained when Ezekiel frowned. “I’m fine, really.” 

“Of course.” Ezekiel reached up, running a quick hand over his short brown hair. His sharp, narrow face twisted with worry when he looked around. “Just out of curiosity: why was there a spirit here?” 

“We’re working a case. You get get out of there now,” she repeated to Camille and Melanie. “Why don’t you go back to the house and try and get some rest, okay? Sam and Dean will take care of Margret’s bones.” She watched as the two humans hurried away before turning back to the seraphim. “Yeah. Working a case. I don’t like this town. Too many psychics. It makes my grace tingle.” 

Ezekiel nodded. “It’s not pleasant,” he agreed. “I imagine it’s overwhelming for you, still being new to this.” 

“I’ll cope. Think . . . you can give me a ride back to the motel? The Winchesters are still at the graveyard and I really don’t feel like walking or waiting.” 

“Of course,” Ezekiel promised. He reached out and grabbed her shoulder, and then they were flying. Air rushed through Alex’s wings as they immediately landed outside the motel. “Which room?” he asked. 

“Uh, 17.” The next second they were there, and Alex spread her wings out. “Man, you need to teach me how to do that.”

“It’s not complicated,” Ezekiel promised. “Sometimes the hardest part is remembering not only to keep your wings moving, but remembering the right power at which to do so. It all happens very fast.”

“Yeah. I’ve noticed.” Alex’s head pulsed again and she grunted, reaching up to gingerly touch the spot.

Ezekiel’s hand was there in an instant, and his grace tenderly pushed against hers. Lucifer’s grace immediately swelled in protest, and Ezekiel pulled back in confusion.

“Sorry,” Alex mumbled. “It doesn’t like when angels do that.”

“I don’t recognize the grace. And you’re not one with it . . .”

“It’s Lucifers,” she said bluntly. “Long story.”

The seraph remained quiet for several long moments. “So that is what his grace is like,” he finally murmured. “I wasn’t expecting it to be so . . .”

“Cold?” Alex guessed. “Pleasant? Yeah, trust me, I know.”

“But the two of you aren’t bonded.” After a long, silent pause he added, hoping to strike up conversation, “Have you considered taking another mate now that Castiel’s gone?” His wings curled forward in curiosity, but Alex pulled away, stepping back.

“No,”she shook her head. “I’m not —”

“I wasn’t propositioning,” the seraph hurriedly interjected, realizing how Alex had mistaken his words. “But I am your friend. I’m worried.”

“I’m fine —” The ringing of Alex’s phone had her cutting off, and she yanked it out of her pocket. “Sorry. Gotta take this.” Ezekiel nodded and disappeared, and Alex answered the phone. “Dean.”

“The grave is empty.”

“What?” 

Margret’s grave. The bones are gone. We can’t burn them.”

“Okay. Get back to the motel. I took care of the ghost. Well, I called in reinforcements. He took care of the ghost. Sent it back to its remains, it’ll stay there for eighteen hours or so. Melanie and Camille are safe,” she added. “They went to stay at Melanie’s.” 

“We’ll be back in ten minutes.”

“Okay.” 

 

 **T** he Winchesters returned ten minutes later, just as promised. Alex was sprawled out across the nearest mattress, halfway through changing for bed. She sat up when the door closed behind them, rubbing her eyes. “Hey.” She blindly grasped for her shirt that lay behind her, tugging it over her head. “How’d it go?” 

“Bones are missing.” Sam tossed his duffle bag onto the ground in front of the bed. “Which means we’re dealing with some serious binding magic here.” 

“Which means we have to find the bonehead to find the bones,” Dean finished. “I don’t even know where to start looking.” 

“How about we start with sleep?” Alex suggested, running her eyes over the two of them. When they both looked like they were going to protest she added, “Seriously, guys. You just dug up and refilled two graves. You’re sweaty, dirt, and exhausted. Ezekiel bought us eighteen hours. It’s okay to use some of that to rest. We can start fresh in the morning.” 

Dean stripped off his jacket. “I’m not going to even argue with that one,” he muttered as he walked towards the bathroom, shirt joining his jacket on the ground. “Damn good logic. I’m taking a shower.” 

“You want to crash here for the night too?” Alex asked Sam, secretly hoping he would. 

Her hopes were dashed when the hunter shook his head. “There’s working water at my place,” he said instead. “See you in the morning. Can I have the keys?” 

Alex tossed him the keys to her Marquis. “Yeah. See you.” 

 

 **N** either Winchester moved until nearly noon the next day. Alex slept in late herself, and spent the rest of the morning surfing the web. She called Bobby at one point, to see if there was anything he could help with, but without being there himself, there wasn’t much he could do from where he was. She cleaned up the empty beer bottles scattered across the table, glancing towards Dean to wonder how late he was up drinking. 

When Dean was finally up and moving, they agreed to meet Sam at the Good Graces Cafe for lunch. 

“I don’t know what to do, man.” Dean stabbed at the leftover meat from his pulled pork sandwich. “There’s what, a thousand different ways to bind a spirit?”

“Not a thousand,” Sam retorted. “Look, the most common way involves an ash-wood alter, okay? Me and Alex will go down to the Emporium and see if they’ve sold any recently.” 

“And I’ll go to Melanie’s,” Dean finished. “Keep an eye on them. Got it.” He dropped his fork onto his plate with a clatter. “I’m taking the Charger.” 

“Fine.” Sam pulled a few bills out of his wallet and dropped them on the table. “I’ll call later.” Then he stood up, motioning for Alex to follow. She grabbed one last handful of fries before hurrying after him. 

They got into the Marquis and Sam pulled her out onto the road. “You sure this is going to work?” she dared ask after a few minutes of quiet. 

“Do you have a better plan?” 

“Not really.”

“I have a list of stuff typically used for this kind of summoning, okay? We’ll get the addresses of everyplace that bought that kind of stuff and check it out. We’ll find the bones.” 

“Yeah. Let’s hope so.”

 

 **T** hey pulled up alongside the Emporium a few minutes later, and Alex followed Sam through the door and down into the shop. Jimmy Tomorrow was sitting there reading the newspaper; he looked up as they approached. “Agents. Are you here with my check?” 

“I’m looking for someone who bought some things from you.” Sam pulled a piece of paper out of his jacket and unfolded it before laying it on the counter. 

“How do you know from me?” Jimmy questioned, pulling the list closer. 

“I’m kind of doubting they sell ash-wood alters at the Gas ’n Sip.” 

Jimmy chuckled in agreement. “Valid.” He skimmed the list and then pulled out his record book, flipping through a few pages before stopping. “Ah. Here we go. Credit card receipt.” He looked up at Sam. “I assume you want the address?”

“That’d be great, thanks.” 

“It’s the least I could do.” Jimmy flipped over the list Sam had given him and scrawled an address across the top. “I heard about Nikolai Lishen.” He handed the paper back to Sam.  
 “Thanks a lot. Is that all?”

Jimmy ran a finger down the page in his record books. “Yes, sir. The only one.”

“Thanks.” Sam led the way back out of the store and got into the Marquis. “Find out where that is?” 

Alex pulled out her phone with a nod. “Yeah.” She placed the list on her lap as she typed the address into the GPS. It thought for a few seconds before it _pinged_. Alex pointed down the street. “Go that way.” 

 

 **T** wenty minutes later they pulled up in front of a crisp, white house. Sam jumped out of the car and drew his taurus, checking the magazine before sliding it back in. He motioned Alex forward, and she followed him up the steps, angel blade slipping into her hands. Sam looked down at her, nodding his head. _One, two three._ Suddenly the Winchester kicked down the door, bursting into the house, gun blazing. Screams followed, and Alex charged after, sliding to a stop in confusion. Pregnant woman sat all around, eyes wide and mouths slack in screams. 

Sam faltered, lowering his weapon. “Where’s the alter?” he demanded. 

“It’s there!” the only non-pregnant woman insisted, motioning to their left with a stick of incense. Alex followed her gesture to where a wooden alter sat on a table. 

Sam’s gun fell to his side. “You’re . . . not a necromancer.” 

“This is a Lamaze class, I swear!”

Sam looked down at Alex before looking back around the room. “I-I believe you,” he promised. “Sorry.” He turned and hurried out the door, and Alex hesitated only a second before following. “Shit.” 

“You just burst in and waved your gun at a bunch of pregnant ladies.” Alex hurried past Sam to the car. “Wonderful.”

“Yeah. More importantly, I know who the necromancer is.” Sam whipped out his phone and dialed Dean’s number. “Dean, it's the pawn-shop guy.” A pause as Sam slid into the car. “He goose-chased me to a fucking pregnant yoga class.” He listened, then nodded. “I will.” 

 

 **T** hey were back at the Emporium within twenty minutes. Alex jumped out, angel blade sliding into her hands, and she watched as Sam slipped his gun into the waistband of his jeans. Then he led the way to the pawn shop’s door. He tried the handle twice. Locked. 

Stating the obvious Alex said, “Must’ve closed up.” She pushed her grace through the door and into the empty shop, ignoring how it vibrated. “There’s no one in there,” she finally said, pulling it back into the safe confines of her body. “Maybe he fled?” 

“There’s one other place we can check.” Sam dug through his jean pockets and pulled out a white business card. He read it before handing it to Alex. “He gave me this when we first met him.”

“Oh yeah.” Alex read the address. _809 1/2 Main Street_. “Well, this is 809 Main Street,” she said, pointing to the Emporium’s door. She trailed off when she realized Sam had taken off down the street. “Hey!” She hurried after him, stopping at the end of the street. 

“811.” Sam pointed to the store across the way. He looked around then stopped. “There.” He pointed down the alley, where a small red sign read _809 1/2_. 

Alex followed him down the alley and up to the door. “Here.” She reached forward and unlocked the door with her grace. It swung open, and Sam drew his gun. 

The room was dark, lit only by a window, a small desk lamp, and two candles. Alex nudged Sam’s shoulder, pointing towards a skull sat against the wall. He nodded, a click echoing through the room as he raised the hammer on his gun. He stuck it into the back of his jeans before hurrying over to the table. 

“You don’t need a damn ash-wood alter,” Alex muttered, just loud enough for Sam to hear as he picked the skull up off of the table. 

There was the cocking of a gun and the cold press of metal against her flesh, and Alex froze. “Somehow I just knew you’d be back.” 

Sam spun around, but Jimmy shoved the gun even further into Alex’s neck. “Hi, Agent. Put the skull down. Don’t try anything stupid, or I’ll shoot her.” 

Alex tensed, nodding for Sam to do what the man said. Sam slowly did, and Alex used that moment of distraction to spin away, lashing out to wrench Jimmy’s gun away. She handed the gun to Sam, retreating to his side.

Jimmy stumbled but regained his balance, eyes darkening to see his own gun pointed straight at him. Sam turned and knocked the table over, sending the skull and bowls clattering to the floor, breaking the spell that held the spirit captive. “Nice binding spell,” he sneered at how simple it was to break.

“It doesn’t matter,” Jimmy shrugged. “She helps me because she wants to.”

“What?” 

Jimmy raised his hands. “Margret and me are the same,” he explained. “We’re the real thing. But guess what.” His voice grew dark. “Sometime the real thing just isn’t pretty or entertaining enough. When I show people what they’re capable of, it scares them. I can’t even pay my rent! Margret’s happy to kill for me. She _likes_ the leash.” 

“You’re sick.”

“You know what else I am? A real psychic, dick-bag.” Energy, dark and twisted, shot past Alex wrapping itself around the gun and yanking it from Sam’s hands. It slid over to Jimmy, who stooped to pick it up, and Alex used that moment to slid in front of Sam, wings flared out to protect him. Jimmy pointed the gun back at them. “Surprise.” 

“Where are the rest of the bones?” Sam asked, trying to nudge Alex out of the way. She held her position, however, refusing to put him in harms way. 

Jimmy scoffed. “You think I’m going to tell you?” 

“They’re in the bedroom, aren’t they?” 

“N-No.” The gun went off, striking the wall just to their left, and both Sam and Alex flinched. Jimmy did the same, and Alex let her angel blade fall into her hands, stepping forward menacingly. Jimmy raised the gun again, aiming it straight at Alex. She heard the second cocking of a gun as Sam drew his taurus. 

“I’ll shoot her,” Jimmy warned, lining up the gun directly with Alex’s head. 

“Go ahead,” Sam dared. “I —”

The gun went off, and Alex felt a bullet pierce her forehead. She stumbled to the ground as a second gun went off, and then a body hit the floor in front of her. Alex rolled onto the wooden floor, a litany of curses falling from her lips. “The fuck, dude?!” she gasped. “D-Don’t _tell_ them to shoot me! Ow! That was my _head!”_

Sam’s voice was sharp with concern. “You okay?” 

“That’s beside the point!” Alex covered her forehead with both of her hands. “Great mother-fucking mother fuck that hurts.” 

“Okay yeah, you’re fine.” Sam scooped the skull off of the ground and hurried further into the apartment, leaving Alex laying on the floor. “I’ll get the bones.”

“I’ll get the bones,” Alex mimicked, rolling onto her stomach. “Good _Lord_ that hurt. They in there?” she asked, raising her voice. 

“In the bed.”

“Ew.” Slowly but surely Alex pulled herself to her feet. Only a few seconds later fire lit up the bedroom, and Alex stumbled towards it. “Yay,” she mumbled, leaning heavily against the wall. 

“You, uh, you got a little something . . .” Sam touched his forehead, and Alex raised her hand to feel what he was talking about. She dug her fingers under the metal and pried the bullet out. Then she tossed it onto the bed with the flames, muttering more vehement curses under her breath. 

 

 **T** hey met up with Dean at the Good Graces Cafe. He was already there, sipping on a cup of coffee. When they entered, he looked up and waved them over. “Hey.” He motioned to two other mugs. “Got you guys something.” 

“Thanks.” Alex slid into the chair next to Dean. “Any problems with Margret?” 

“She showed up, but we managed to hold her off. She wasn’t there long.” Dean narrowed his eyes in concern as he studied her, gaze coming to rest on her forehead. “W-What happened to you?” 

Alex reached up to rub the still-dented flesh. “I got shot. In the face. Sam told him to do it—”

“I didn’t think he’d actually shoot you,” Sam quickly defended, fingers drumming on the side of his coffee mug. “Besides, it’s not like it hurt you —”

“I got shot in the motherfucking face!” 

“Whoa whoa whoa.” Dean reached out to touch her arm. “Calm down there, Pip. Public area.” 

“I got shot in the _face_ ,” Alex repeated quietly. 

Sam shrugged, speaking just loud enough for only Dean and Alex to hear, “You know, if you’re gonna be my bullet shield, you better learn to take some bullets.” He took a sip of his coffee as Alex just stuck out her tongue.

Dean frowned. “What did I tell you about being a bullet shield?” he asked, but he didn’t sound all too pissed to Alex. Before she could respond he moved on. “Anyways. Did you find the bones?” 

Sam took a long sip of his coffee. “Yeah. They were in Jimmy’s apartment. In the bed.” 

“In the bed?” Dean repeated, disgust and amusement written all across his face. “They were _in_ the bed?” When Sam nodded he groaned. “Ugh.” In a quieter voice he added, “I can’t believe he was _boning_ her.”

Sam winced at his brother’s joke, putting a hand on his face and shaking his head. “Dean.”

“Can I get you anything else?” The tall, hippie-like waiter from earlier that week stopped in front of their table, a toothy grin across his face. 

Dean nodded. “Uh, just a refill. And if you affirmate me, I’m gonna punch you in the face.” 

Sam turned his head away to hide his smile, and Alex bit did the same, looking down to study her light blue mug. The waiter’s smile faltered, and he looked over at Sam and Alex to try and determine of Dean was joking. “Alrighty then,” he finally said. “Coffee, coming up.”

“I can’t wait to get out of this fucking fortune cookie,” Dean muttered, finishing off the last of his coffee. 

Alex kicked him gently in the shin. “Public area,” she quipped back, grinning when Dean just rolled his eyes. 

“Dean.” Sam motioned with his head towards the cafe entrance, and Alex watched as Melanie walked in, looking around. She spotted them and raised her hand in a small greeting. Dean did the same, and Sam pushed his chair back. “I’m gonna go, uh, do something outside.” 

“I’ll go with you.” Alex stood up and followed Sam, giving up a small greeting as they passed the woman. 

“You didn’t need to come with,” Sam finally said once they were on the streets. 

“And give you a chance to drive away without saying goodbye?” Alex scoffed. “Now why in the hell would I do that?” She followed Sam down to the Marquis and watched as he popped open the trunk. Then Sam tossed her the keys. “What’s this for?”

“You said keep her until we saw each other again. She’s yours.” Sam pulled out his duffle bag and backpack and slung them over his shoulder. 

“Sam, no. She’s a great car, man. I —”

“No, seriously. It’s fine.” Sam closed the trunk and walked back down the street. He stopped beside the Dodge Charger and opened it’s trunk. “I’ve already got a new car.” 

Alex’s face lit up, and her wings spread out. “You’re coming with us?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Hey.” Dean walked up to them as Sam put the last of his things into the trunk. Sam greeted him back, closing the trunk. “That’s your stuff. “

“Yeah. Yeah. I figure we’d take one car.”

“Works for me. You still want to break my face?” 

Sam smiled. “No. Uh, not at his moment. Look, you know what? Um . . . you were right. About Amy. If she was just . . . any other monster I’m not sure I could have let her walk away. I don’t know. I mean, I’ll never know.” 

“So what you’re saying?”

“What I’m saying is . . . I get why you did it. You were just trying to make sure nobody else got hurt. But here’s the thing. You can’t just look me in the face and tell me you’re fine. I mean, you’re not sleeping, you drink for the record —”

“Oh, here we go.”

“Look, whatever. Last one to preach, I know. But . . . just be honest with me. How are those the actions of someone who knows they did the right thing?” 

“You want me to be honest?” 

“Yeah.” 

“I went with my gut. And that felt right. I didn’t trust her, Sam. Of course, ever since . . .” Dean shot a glance towards Alex out of the corner of his eye, “since Cas, I’m having a hard time trusting anybody. And as far as I’ve been acting . . . I don’t know. Maybe it’s cause I don’t like lying to you. You know, it doesn’t feel right. So yeah, you got me there. I’ve been climbing walls.” 

Sam let out a breath of amusement. “Yeah, I know how that is.” 

He and Dean circled around to their respective sides of the Charger, and Alex took that moment to interrupt. “As nice as that all was,” she started, “and as much as I’d love to hear the end of this conversation, I’ll be taking my car. Any idea where we’re going?” 

Dean shook his head. “Just follow us.” 

Alex nodded and walked away. As Sam got into the car she heard him add, “I still want to know how that guy bent my spoon.”


	29. Season Seven, Time For a Wedding!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, three more chapters (this one included) before I'm taking a week break for finals!

**A** hand came down across her foot, and Alex snapped open her eyes, looking around in confusion. Then she relaxed, frowning. “Really?” she snapped. “I was awake, you know.” 

“Congratulations.” Bobby Singer walked over to the kitchen table and picked up his glass of whiskey. “Now you gonna help me pack, or are you just gonna lay there?” 

Alex rolled off of the ratted couch with a grumble. “I’d rather not,” she muttered, but walked over to help the old hunter out. “Why do we have to go with Irving? He’s weird. And old.”

“Cause he’s the one who found the vamp nest. And he called in for help.” Bobby slid a rag across the blade of a machete. “You’re just sulking because you didn’t get to go to Vegas.” 

“Damn straight.” Alex disappeared into the large bedroom to pack her things, raising her voice so Bobby could still hear. “I don’t see why I couldn’t have gone.” She had hung with the Winchesters for a week after Lily Dale, but five days ago she was sent back up to Montana when Dean claimed their trip down to Los Vegas it was a ‘brothers only kind of deal.’ 

“The Winchesters have been going to Vegas this time of year for a long time,” Bobby reminded. “It’s a just-the-two-of-them thing. No girls allowed.” 

“I’m not a girl, I’m angel of the Lord,” Alex quipped back, shoving Castiel’s trench coat into her bag. She paused, closing her eyes to try and catch her mate’s scent, but it was fading away. “It’s stupid. They get a vacation and I have to hunt down a stupid nest. Why can’t I just stay behind?” 

“Cause you’re an angel of the Lord. Best damn backup plan in the books.” Bobby slung his bag over his shoulder. “Now come on. It’s about a day’s drive.” When Alex didn’t immediately move he added, “You know, this might be our last hunt together.”

Alex rolled her eyes at his guilt trip, but picked up her bag and followed Bobby out of the cabin. “I hate car rides.” 

 

**April 24th, 2012**

**Falls City, Oregon**

**T** hey arrived at the Pine Motel late that night. After checking into their room they went down the hall to room 24. Bobby rapped on the door, and after a few seconds it opened. “Hey.” 

Nathaniel Irving stood there, raking a hand through his messy grey hair. Dark green swept over Alex. “You brought the girl.” 

“She’s helpful, Nate.” Bobby pushed his way into the room. “More help than you’d think.” 

Nathaniel grumbled and shut the door behind him. “Whatever.” He motioned to the wall where a large relationship chart was pinned to the walls. “Think I almost got ‘em pinned down. They’re smart little shits.”

Alex snorted in amusement at his choice in language, sitting down on the small table. “Alright. Looks like you’ve already done much of the canvassing.”

The old hunter nodded. “Only called you in cause this nest’s way to big for one man to take on. Could’ve handled it with just two.”

Alex rolled her eyes, not the least bit affected by his attitude. “You’re grumpier than I remember.” She found her spring-assisted knife and pulled it out of her pocket, flicking the blade out and snapping it back into place with one hand. “So. When are we gonna hit them?” 

“Tomorrow night. Once we confirm location.” 

“Good. It’s been a while since I’ve had a good old-fashioned vamp hunt. And I’ve been itching for a fight lately,” she added under her breath, watching as Bobby carefully studied the chart. “So, Nate, how you’ve been?” 

“I’m still alive.”

“Ah. Well, thank God for that, huh?” 

Nathaniel glanced over at Alex, one bushy eyebrow raised in disbelief. “You know I don’t believe in that crap.”

“Yeah, well, I do, so watch your tongue.” Alex’s wings raised slightly in agitation before she took a deep breath, pulling them back in. “That’s my Father you’re talking about,” she muttered, flicking the blade of her knife back out. She looked up to see Nathaniel and Bobby deep in conversation, neither apparently having heard her last little comment. “Bobby.” She spoke up so the hunter turned. “Unless you guys need me, I’m gonna go take a shower and hit the sack, alright?”

“Yeah. Sounds good.” 

 

**W** hen Alex awoke Bobby was already up and making coffee. He turned when she sat up. “Sleep well, princess?” 

“Yeah —” She was cut off by a large yawn. “It’s been a while since I’ve had a motel bed to myself. Usually I’m crammed in with one of the Winchesters.”

“You know, you could get your own room.” Bobby poured to cups and set them on the table. 

Alex shrugged, throwing back the covers. She padded over to the table and sat down, pulling her mug close. “Yeah, I guess. I’ve done that a few times. But it costs money, and I don’t know. I don’t feel comfortable using that money for something so trivial.” She shrugged again. “Plus Dean has all these weird rules for when I get my own room. I swear he thinks he’s my dad.” 

“He’s an older brother,” Bobby reminded. “Can’t really blame him.” He sat down and slid the newspaper over to her, changing the subject. “Another attack. We’re gonna nail down their nest this afternoon, strike tonight. You in?” 

“Of course.” 

 

**A** lex followed Bobby through the long grass, grace twitching against her angel blade in anticipation. A large farmhouse lay ahead, and Alex could hear and feel the vampires inside. “They know we’re here,” she murmured to Bobby, lengthening her stride to walk beside him. “They can hear our heartbeats.” A flick of her grace pinpointed Nathaniel to be moving behind the house. “I’ll go first.” 

Before Bobby could give his consent she slipped past him, crossing the dirt driveway and throwing open the front door. 

The vampires were ready, and for a single, long second, they and Alex just stared at each other, locked in a nonverbal stand off. Then Alex closed her eyes, exploding her grace outwards in a show of a bright, white light. The vampires screeched and cried, and Alex felt the ones who didn’t shade their eyes in time die. She yanked her grace back into her body and let her angel blade fall into her hands. She heard a muttered curse from outside the house, and a small grin curved her lips upwards as she lunged forward, blade sliding through one throat before sinking deep into a chest. She heard Bobby and Nathaniel burst into the house as she bounded up the stairs, feeling two vampires hiding in the bedrooms. 

They were dispatched quickly; they didn’t even put up a fight, and Alex searched the rest of the upstairs before hurrying back down to survey the living room. “What the hell was that?” Nathaniel burst through the doorway, glaring at Alex. 

She didn’t flinch, but her wings rose in agitation. “Excuse me?” 

“That light. What was that?” 

“You didn’t tell him, did you?” Alex felt Bobby enter the room from the other doorway, but didn’t turn to face him. “Well, long story short I’m an angel. Yeah, actual angel.” Before Nathaniel could respond she nodded. “I know, I know. Take a moment to let it sink in. Why don’t we burn this place to the ground while we wrap our heads around that, huh? I felt gasoline in the basement.” 

She followed Bobby down the stairs, leaving Nathaniel to stare after them, dumbfounded. Alex flicked her grace in and out, sticking out her tongue. “My grace’s still tingling from Lily Dale,” she muttered. “It’s annoying.” 

“Here.” Bobby fished out a can of gasoline and handed it to Alex. “I’ll start downstairs, take this to Nate, tell him to get the upstairs.” When Alex made a questioning noise he added, “You take a quick sweep of the property. Make sure we didn’t miss anything.” 

Alex rolled her eyes, but nodded. “Yeah. Sure thing.” She hurried upstairs, and, after explaining the plan to Nathaniel Irving, slipped out the door. 

 

**S** he circled the entire property, but found no signs of a living vamp. She returned to the farmhouse to see flames licking at the roof. Bobby walked past her, and Alex turned tail and followed him back to the car. “Now what?” she questioned. 

“We’ll spend the night in town, hit the road sometime tomorrow.” Bobby got into the driver’s seat and Alex followed suit, slamming the door after her. “Thanks for your help, by the way,” Bobby added. “Should take you on more hunts.” He dug his phone out of the glovebox before pausing. Then he tossed it to Alex. “Dean called. See what he wants.” 

Alex unlocked the phone as the car started and took off down the road. She opened the voicemail and put it on speaker. Dean’s voice came through. “Bobby. Hey, I know you’re, uh, beard-deep in that Oregon nest. I’m headed to Delaware to do a little digging around. Sam is there with his wife. That’s right. You heard me. I said wife. Call me.” 

Alex looked over at Bobby, mouth hanging open slightly in shock. “I’m calling him back.” She dialed Dean’s number and held it up to her ear, but Bobby reached out, forcing her to lower the phone. She put it speaker, knowing what he wanted. 

Dean answered. “Bobby?” 

“Close. What do you mean Sam’s got a wife?” 

“He got married.” Dean’s voice was terse. “To Becky.” 

Bobby looked confused, but Alex closed her eyes. “You mean . . . fanfiction Becky? Holy shit, man. How the hell does that even happen? I-I leave you alone for five days. Five days—”

“Yeah, yeah. Trust me. I know. Something’s not right. Anyways, I’m going up there to see what I can find.”

“I’ll meet you there. Delaware. That’s on the other side of the country . . . what? Two days if I don’t stop?”

“I’m about a day and a half out myself. I’ll text you the town when I find it.” 

Bobby grunted in agreement. “Is Alex enough?” he asked. “Cause no offense, but I’ve got plenty to do without taking a cross-country road trip.”

“Right, right. How’s that nest going? You find it?” 

“Just on the way back. Feathers here took out most of it on her own. We need to get more angels to hunt with us. Well, give Sam my regards. I’ll send the angel down your way as soon as I can.” 

“Yeah, thanks Bobby.” Dean hung up, and Alex tossed the phone back into the glovebox. She let out a long breath and looked over at Bobby. 

“Well, that was exciting.” 

 

**Pine Creek, Deleware**

**F** orty hours later Alex pulled the Marquis off of Highway 7 and onto North Star Rd. She glanced at her GPS, which estimated that she would arrive there in approximately five minutes. Her phone rang, and she jumped to answer it. “Hello.”

“Alex.” That was Dean. “Where are you?” 

“Five minutes out. You got an address?” Alex stepped on the gas, accelerating down the road. 

“I’m at the Pike Creek Motel. Just off the main road. Meet me there, then we’re going to visit Sam.” 

Alex made a face. “You sure? I don’t think Becky likes me very much. Remember when we first met her and Sam was all awkward and confused and I tried to help by making Becky think me and him were a thing?” She stuck out of tongue and pulled it back in, dragging it across her teeth. “We’ve never really gotten along after that. She’s also a bitch.”

“Hey now,” Dean interrupted. “Let’s . . . let’s just figure out what’s going on, okay? Just hurry up.” 

“Yeah, sure thing.” Alex hung up and tossed her phone onto the seat beside her. It wasn’t long until Pine Creek, Delaware rose from the horizon, and she slowed down as she entered the town, searching for the motel Dean had described. 

She recognized the old blue Charger and pulled into the parking lot. Dean was sitting on the trunk; when Alex pulled her car up next to him he jumped off. “About time.” 

“I was in _Oregon_. Cut me some slack, man.” Alex got out of the car and pointed to the box sitting beside him. “What’s that?” 

Dean held it up. “Waffle iron. Sort of a gift for the new couple.” Then he tossed her the newspaper. “I’m thinking there’s a case in town. Check it out. Two wacky deaths. First guy wings the lotto then gets pancaked by a semi. Second guy becomes a baseball superstar overnight. Yesterday he was found dead at home plate. Paper says his skull was crushed by a baseball.”

“Ew.” Alex skimmed the small obituary before nodding. “Alright. So, I assume we’re taking your car.”

“Damn right we are.” Dean got into the driver’s seat and Alex slid in beside him. “Thanks for coming down anyways.” 

“Of course. There’s no way I’d miss out on seeing this. This is gonna be gold.” 

 

**T** hey pulled up in front of a small apartment building a few minutes later. Dean got out and led the way inside and up the stairs. He paused in front of door number 7 and knocked. A few seconds passed before the door opened. 

Sam looked between Alex and Dean, confusion on his face. Dean handed his brother the gift. “Me being supportive,” he explained. “Congratulations to you and the missus.” 

“Thanks.”

“It’s a waffle iron,” the Winchester continued. “Nonstick. Yeah, you just, uh . . .” He did his best to mime how it was suppose to work before giving up, hands dropping back to his side. “I actually don’t know how to use it.”

“Me neither,” Alex agreed. “I bet I could figure it out though. Waffles aren’t hard.” 

Dean nodded. “We good?” Sam smiled and gave a small shrug, and Dean took that as permission to enter. He brushed past his brother and into the apartment. “Good, cause I’m sniffing a case in this town.”

Alex followed Dean in, stopping to stare at Sam. 

Dean continued. “The score is . . . one guy wins the Powerball, gets squished by a truck. Second guys goes from the bench to the Majors. Oh, and one week later his _face_ is the catcher’s mitt, huh?” 

“Our first thought was cross-roads demons, but there’s that 10 year time frame on collecting souls.” 

Alex closed her eyes at the familiar voice, forcing her wings to remain calmly against her back. Sam led the way into the bedroom, and Alex and Dean followed. Becky Rosen was standing there, and behind her was pinned a large relationship chart. Alex nodded in appreciation, giving credit for the very orderly layout. 

“Then there’s cursed objects, like in _Bad Day at Black Rock?”_ Becky turned around, one hand on her hip and her voice deep with almost an annoying sense of importance. “But we haven’t been able to connect the vics yet.” 

“ _Ay caramba es una perra,_ ” Alex muttered under her breath, making sure to be quiet enough that Sam couldn’t hear. He stopped beside his wife and tossed the waffle iron onto the bed.

Dean stared at the two of them, shocked. “You’re . . . working the case together?” 

“Yeah. I know, right?” Sam sounded both proud and impressed, and Alex’s feathers ruffled. “I mean, I guess all those Chuck Shurley books paid off.” 

Dean seemed to shared her feelings. “All right, listen Cookie, I don’t know what kind of mojo you are working, but, believe me, I will find out.” 

“Dean . . . that’s my wife you’re talking to.” 

“You’re not even acting like yourself, Sam!” 

Sam crossed his arms skeptical. “How am I not?” 

“You married _Becky Rosen_!” 

Sam let out a disbelieving breath, and Becky stepped forward. “What are you saying? That I’m a witch? Or maybe I’m a siren. Ever occur to you that maybe we’re just — I don’t know — happy?” 

Alex stalked forward. “No,” she said quietly. “You’re not a witch. Not a siren either. I can feel your soul. You’re human.” She relished in the short burst of fear that flickered behind the woman’s eyes. “And I can feel his soul. And something’s not right.” 

A hand was on her shoulder, pushing her away, and Alex looked up to see Sam separating the two of them. “There’s nothing wrong with me,” he said quietly. 

“I’m inside your head, Sam. There is literally a _piece_ of me inside your head, and you don’t think I can't tell when something’s off?” 

“Dude, think about it.” Dean stepped up to defend Alex. “Guy hits the lotto, guy hits the bigs. Alright, obviously people’s dreams are coming true in this town. Don’t you think this is a little it of coincidence?” 

“You know what, Dean? What Becky and I have is _real_. And if you can’t accept that, that’s your problem, not ours.” 

“Or maybe she’s part of it,” Dean retorted. “Because for whatever reason, you’re her dream! If you really do care about her, I’d be worried. Because people who do get their little fantasies or whatever seem to end up dead pretty quick.” That last sentence was directed straight at Becky, who glared right back. “Come on.” Dean grabbed Alex’s arm. “Let’s go. There’s no reasoning with him.”

“You know, I went after her, Dean. Maybe that’s what’s bugging you. That I’m moving on with my life.”  
 “Moving on?” Alex scoffed. “There is no moving on, Sam. You know that. Once a hunter, always a hunter. You can’t just get out. You of all people should know that.” 

“Alex.” Dean pulled at her arm, and she stomped out of the apartment. 

As soon as they were outside she let her wings flare out, feathers ruffling as her annoyance became apparent. “She’s in on it,” she huffed. “I can feel it.” 

Dean opened his mouth to answer, but his phone rang. “Bobby?” He raised an eyebrow as he listened, looking over at Alex. “Well, not too well. But there’s definitely a case here.” A long pause and Dean stopped next to the Charger. “I don’t want another hunter, Bobby. Me and Alex have got this.” He threw his head back. “Ugh. Fine. What’s his name?” He listened, nodded, and hung up, shoving his phone back into his pocket.

“Well?” 

“Bobby seems to think we need help. Said there’s another hunter in town.”

“Who? I might know him.” 

“Uh, said his name was Garth.” 

Alex’s face lit up as she got into the car. “Garth’s in town? That’s awesome! I haven’t seen in him forever.” She waited until the car roared to life before adding, “He was one of the first hunters I met. Apart from you guys, of course.” Dean grunted in acknowledgment of her statement, and Alex took that as permission to continue. “I may or may not have beat him up.” 

_That_ certainly got Dean’s attention. “What?” 

“Yeah.” Alex inwardly grinned now that she had a captive audience. “I was wandering through the cars at Bobby when he jumped me. We had kind of met earlier, but still. He wanted to see if I could defend myself, living at Bobby’s. I mean, we get all sorts of people passing through there, so . . .” She shook off the thought. “Anyways. He jumps me, I panicked. I went limp, he staggered, and then I kicked him in the balls. Down he went.” She let out an amused noise at the memory. “And then I kicked him in the gut just for good measure. True story.” 

“Sounds like a real nice guy.”

Alex shrugged. “He’s actually pretty cool. Not someone you’d expect to be a hunter, but he’s nice. We get along fine now. So. When are we meeting him?” 

“Bobby said he’s close enough to be here in a few hours. He also said they found a second nest up in Oregon. He and this one guy called Irving are finishing up there.”

“Huh. Well, best of luck to them.” 

 

**A** lex rolled out of the Charger and slammed the door, watching as Dean got slowly got out. She called Garth and told them to meet at the Bridgeway Diner in town at 5 o’clock, but thanks to Dean they were almost fifteen minutes late. “You’re so slow,”she half-teased, crossing the parking lot ahead of him. She pushed open the heavy swinging door, and the restaurant was filled with the sound of bells tinkling. 

“Alright, which one is this Garth fellow, huh?” Dean looked around. “That one?” He pointed to an older man who was sitting alone. 

“Nope.” Alex moved further into the diner before grinning and sliding into a booth across from a lanky young man. “Hey!” 

“Alex.” Garth gave a warm nod of greeting. “And you must be Dean.”

Dean stared down at the hunter, surprise and confusion across his face; it was obvious he wasn’t who Dean had expected. “You’re Garth?” 

“Yup.” Garth took a long sip of his milkshake. “I thought you’d be taller.” 

Dean looked between Alex and Garth before sitting down next to the young angel. “I assume Bobby filled you in on the road.”

“He told me two things. One, he’s tangling with a major-league nest in Oregon territory. Numero dos, he said you’d be all, uh, surly and premenstrual working with me. But hey, man, sticks and stones.”

Dean rolled his eyes and set his newspaper down on the table. “Think I found a case,” explained. “Check the headlines.” 

“First thing’s first.” Garth took the newspaper and unfolded it, turning to the last page. He paused, and then a large grin broke out across his face. He laughed, shaking his head. “Oh Marmaduke, you’re crazy!” 

Dean looked over at Alex, and she just shrugged. 

The newspaper rustled again as Garth turned back to the front page. He took a moment to skim the article before folding the paper and looking back up. “Okay, so what are we thinking?”

“Don’t know,” Dean admitted. “Seems like a cross-roads deal, but they’re biting the dust way to early.” 

“Demons are pretty good about keeping their ten year promise,” Alex added. “Plus they weren’t hellhound attacks. That’s what comes to collect the souls, after all. Kills are consistent with witches and hexes —”

“But that doesn’t explain their big breaks,” Dean finished. “We don’t know yet.”

“Dean did manage to find a lead,” Alex added. “Turn the page over.” While Garth did she explained, “A salesman at Mutual Freedom leapfrogged to CEO. I’d bet anything to say he’s in on this, too.” 

Garth nodded. “So we need to find a way to talk to him.”

“Already done.” Dean rapped on the table twice, leaning back in his seat. “Tomorrow at three.” 

“You two will go talk to him, and I’ll scout the building,” the young angel continued. “See if I can find anything weird. Hopefully we’ll catch whatever this is before it strikes again.” 

 

**T** he next day found Alex walking through the halls of the Mutual Freedom Insurance corporate building. Dean and Garth had gone upstairs to the CEO office five minutes ago, and she was currently patrolling near the lobby, carefully watching everyone who came in and out. 

“Alex?” 

The young angel spun around at Sam’s voice. She raised her chin to try and appear taller as he and Becky approached. “Sam,” she greeted, voice cool. “What are you doing here?” 

“We went to talk to the CEO. I saw Dean and this scrawny guy up there.” 

“Yeah, that’d be Garth.” Alex’s gaze swung over to Becky, who glared over at her. Alex’s wings flared, stretching out in a nonverbal challenge, but the action remained unseen by the woman. 

Sam’s voice snapped her out of it. “They won’t find anything,” he told her. “Guys’s clean. Becky drilled him like a pro.”

“I’m sure she did. Well, either way I’m here to make sure no creepy-crawlies get in or out. So, if you don’t mind . . .” Alex motioned towards the door. “Exit’s that way.” The two of them left, fingers entwined, and Alex stuck out her tongue out at them before stalking off deeper into the building. 

She circled around to the back and hurried up the stairs before making her way across the third floor. Familiar voices sounded in the stairwell behind her and she turned, pushing open the door to peer up. Dean and Garth were talking to a woman clad all in white. “—trying to save you from a really bad accident,” Dean was insisting, voice deep and quiet.

The woman glared up at the Winchester. “Are you threatening me?” 

“No.” Dean pulled his hand off of her shoulder, looking over at Garth in confusion. “No. I-I-I’m pointing out a pattern. Why do people keep thinking I’m threatening them?” 

Garth shrugged. “Because it sounded exactly like a threat, dude.” Alex grunted in agreement, stepping out into the stairwell. 

Dean shook his head before turning back to the woman. “Look, for your own good, what did you do to get him promoted.”

The woman held her head high. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Now leave me alone. Or do I have to call security?” 

Dean hesitated, then stepped back, and the woman stalked down the stairs, passing Alex with an upturned nose. Alex waited until Dean and Garth had caught up to her. “Who’s the bitch?” she huffed.

“Marsha. CEO’s wife. It’s not the CEO. He’s planning on resigning at the end of the week. Her, however,” Dean pointed after the snobbish woman, “well, all her dream’s have come true.” He led the way down the stairs. “She’s next.” 

With a shrug, Alex and Garth followed Dean down the stairs and towards the lobby. Suddenly Dean rushed forward and Alex broke into a run as the chandelier from above creaked and swayed before plummeting towards the ground. The Winchester got there first, arms wrapping around Marsha’s white suit jacket and tackling her to the ground. The chandelier crashed to the ground where they had been only seconds before. 

Alex slid to a stop in front of the Winchesters, helping the both of them to their feet. “You okay?” 

Marsha was staring up at Dean, face blank with shock. “How did you know?” 

“Cause you’re not the first. Come on.” Dean led her away from the broken glass as Garth caught up to them. 

“You want to tell us what’s up here?” the scrawny hunter asked, shoving his hands into his pocket. 

Marsha looked between Dean and Garth before finally shaking her head. “I was having lunch with friends. This guy heard me bitching. Next thing I know, he’s making me an offer.” 

Alex pushed out her grace, feeling the woman’s soul. “She’s been marked,” she confirmed, drawing her grace back into her body. “Crossroads deal.” 

“What?”

Alex squared her shoulders at the woman’s sharp tone. “Let me guess. He offered you your husband’s job for you soul. You took it.” She turned to Dean. “Someone’s collecting payment early.” 

“Those are ten year contracts,” Garth agreed. “Why’s the bill coming due so fast?” 

Dean shook his head. “I don’t know. But I have a bad feeling about who’s next. We need to get to Sam pronto.” 

Something prickled at the back of Alex’s mind, and she hung back. “Drop me off at the motel first,” she finally said. “There’s something I need to do.” 

“Really? Now?”

“Yeah. You two go find Becky, I’ll check this out. If I don’t find what I’m looking for, I’ll come back.” When Dean nodded, Alex followed them out of the building. 

 

**A** lex pulled the car up alongside a small cabin. She turned the car off and got out, grace flickering out ahead of her to make sure what she was looking for was inside. She climbed the three steps to the door, and using her grace quickly unlocked it. The sky was already growing dark as she slipped inside. The main room was empty, and she silently walked into the bedroom where a simple overhead light was on. “You rang?” 

Sam stared up at her, tied spread-eagle to the bed, eyes wide and a dish towel in his mouth. He made an indistinct grunting sound, and Alex chuckled at the turn of events. 

“You look comfy,” she joked. “And the gag’s a nice touch.” Sam snapped out a string of what could only be curses, but it was unintelligible through the thick cloth. Alex grinned. “I don't know what you’re saying, but I’m really glad I can’t hear it. Good thinking with the whole prayer thing. The whole constantly open prayer link certainly helped me finding you.”

Sam said something.

“Lucifer?” Alex guessed, doing her best to make sense of his sounds. “Makes sense.” She walked over to the edge of the bed. “You probably want me to untie.”

Sam grunted, nodding, but just at that instant, the roaring of an engine could be heard outside the cabin. Sam looked over at Alex, who backed up, pressing herself into the corner of the bedroom. The door opened and then closed, and then Becky was standing at the doorway, leaning against the door and staring down at Sam. “Well, this isn’t how I imagined spending my reunion,” she finally said. 

Sam spoke urgently, his words muffled by the dishrag, but he looked over at Alex. She just shrugged, waiting to be noticed. 

Becky continued. “I was going to show you off — not that anyone actually knows who you are. _Supernatural_ isn’t exactly popular . . . but you’re tall . . . and nice . . . they’d all think I was happy.” 

Sam muttered something, probably against Alex, and turned his head away. 

“You’re mad,” Becky acknowledged dejectedly. “I get it. But . . .” She walked over to Sam and got on the bed, laying down and resting her head on his chest. “Can we talk?” 

Sam mumbled out a surprisingly distinct, “Oh, God.” His next word was unclear, but Alex was pretty sure it was her name. 

She took pity on the Winchester. “Maybe I should stop you there,” she suggested, pushing herself off of the wall. Becky sat up like a shot, eyes wide. Alex motioned to the Winchester. “Listen, I know you’ve been married for a few days and all, but take it from someone who dated him for almost two years — he does _not_ like being the one tied down.” 

“Oh my God.” Sam threw his head back on the pillow, his curse clear even through the towel, and Alex smirked at his embarrassment. 

“How did you get in here?” Becky got off of the bed, eyes wide with surprise and anger. 

Alex shrugged. “Angel, remember? Sam prayed, I answered. More importantly, we know what’s doing this.” 

“Crossroads demon.” Becky’s face fell. “I know.” Sam muttered out a long string of syllables, and Alex crossed the room to pull the rag out of his mouth. 

Sam flicked out his tongue before he spoke. “She dosed me up with love potion,” he snapped. “Her dealer’s the one icing those people.”

“I thought he was just a Wiccan,” Becky defended. “Like a good witch.” Her voice fell when she added, “I went back when I ran out for another vial. That’s when he offered me the deal.” She quickly added, “He says those people just had ‘unfortunate accidents.’ ”

Alex nodded. “Ten year contracts are unbreakable,” she explained. “Can’t collect early. Then again, sometimes people die.”

“It’s a loophole,” Sam realized. He struggled against his ropes before adding, “Can we untie me? Please?” 

Alex touched the rope binding his right hand and it fell away. “I have a feeling Crowley isn’t really a fan of said loopholes.” She looked over at Becky. “You have any idea how to find this guy?” 

“Yeah. I said I’d be back tonight with my decision.” Becky looked confused for a second before her eyes lit up. “Are we going to set a trap?” 

“You guys are.” Alex untied Sam’s legs while he struggled to get his other hands free. “Get Dean and Garth. I’ve got a date with the King of Hell.” 

 

**T** he moon was rising above the tree line when Alex pulled the Marquis into the motel parking lot. She crossed the street to the small park there before shoving her hands into her pockets and looking up into the sky. “Alright, Crowley. Busy?” 

“Hello, kitten. Long time no see.” 

Alex turned around to see Crowley, and she pulled her wings in close. “Hello, badger,” she quipped back in her best imitation of Crowley’s accent. “It hasn’t been that long. Three months?” 

Crowley sauntered forward until he was standing in front of the angel. “ ‘Badger’, hmm?”

“I think it suits you. Dark, stocky, ill-tempered.” 

Crowley looked around, neither agreeing nor protesting. “Is this important,” he finally asked, “or are we just here for another one of your little chats?” The next second he snapped his fingers, and Alex let out a protesting noise as her phone appeared in his hands. “Don’t worry, angel. Just figured since we’re besties you should have my number. Summoning is _so_ 2011.” He tossed it back to her after a few seconds. “Now what do you want?” 

Alex shoved her phone back into her pocket. “We’re working a case,” she explained brusquely. “One of your men’s cutting deals short. Now, normally we stay out of the way, but this is a bit insane.”

To her surprise, Crowley nodded. “So you found that little bastard, did you. I’ve been gathering intel for the past few weeks, but I see the Winchesters beat me to it. So what’s with this?” He spun his finger in a small circle.

Alex shrugged. “I figured you could help. Anything I can do to save the Winchesters a few unnecessary bruises.” 

“And where are those denim-wrapped nightmares?” 

“Probably taking care of said ‘little bastard.’ ”

“Hmm. Then perhaps we should get moving.” Crowley raised his fingers before hesitating. “Still can’t fly?” 

“Just zap us out of here.”

Then they were indoors. “Hello, boys.” 

Dean froze from where he was facing a dark-skinned demon. “Oh crap.” He lunged behind the demon, knife coming up to rest against its throat. 

Alex folded her wings behind back, gaze flitting over to Sam and Becky as Crowley strolled forward. “Sam,” he acknowledged. “mazel tov. Who’s the lucky lady?” 

“You’re Crowley!” Becky realized, green eyes wide in awe. 

Crowley paused only briefly to run his eyes up and down the young lady. “And you’re — well, I’m sure you have a wonderful personality, dear.”

Alex huffed in amusement when Becky’s eyes narrowed in anger. “Relax,” she suggested. “I wouldn’t start anything with him if I were you.” 

“Quite right you are.” Crowley moved towards Dean, who shifted, tightening his grip on the demon. 

“Ah,” he warned the King of Hell, “another step, and I’ll Columbian necktie your little friend here.” 

Crowley stopped. “Please. Don’t let him get off that easy.” Alex didn’t miss the flash of fear in the demon’s eyes, nor the confusion in Dean’s. 

“Sir,” the demon began, “I don’t think you —”

“I know exactly what you’ve been doing. A little birdie named Jackson sold you out, e-mailed all the juicy deets to my suggestion box.” The King of Hell looked down at the dead body that lay to their left, and Alex followed his gaze. “I assume that’s my whistle-blower. Shame, he had a future.” Crowley turned back to the cross-roads demon. “Unfortunately, you don’t.” 

“I was just —”

“There’s only one rule; make a deal, keep it.” 

“Well, technically I didn’t —”

“There’s a reason we don’t call our chits early — consumer confidence.” Crowley’s voice rose in frustration. “This isn’t Wall Street! This is Hell! We have a little something called integrity. This gets out, who’ll deal with us? Nobody! Then where are we?” 

The demon hesitated, then shook his head. “I don’t know,” he said in a quiet voice. 

“That’s right. You don’t. Because you’re a stupid, shortsighted, little prat.” He turned his attention to Dean. “Now. Hand the jackass over. I’ll cancel ever deal he’s made.” 

“What are you gonna do with him?” 

The demon’s voice grew sharp. “Make an example of him. Fair trade, right? We’ll all go our separate ways.” He watched as Sam and Dean exchanged looks. “No harm done.”

“What?” Sam scoffed, “Out of the goodness of your heart?” 

Crowley swung his gaze over to him. “Years of demons nipping at your heels, haven’t seen one for months. Wonder why?” 

“We’ve been a little busy,” Dean quipped. 

“Hunting Leviathan — yes, I know. That’s why I told my lads to stay clear of you meatheads.” 

“So what do you know about —”

“Too much. You met the dick yet? Smuggest tub of goo since Mussolini. I hate the bastards. Squash them all. Please. I’ll stay clear.”  
 “Rip up the contracts first.” 

Crowley raised his hands and snapped both of his fingers. “Done . . . and done. Your turn.” 

The demon’s eyes went wide. “No no no no,” he pleaded. “Let —” He cut off when Dean shoved him towards the King of Hell.

“Pleasure, gentlemen.” Then the two demons were simply gone. 

Alex stepped forward, opening her mouth to speak before movement out of the corner of her eye had her turning. Garth pulled himself to his feet, looking about. “What’d I miss?” 

Alex raised her eyebrows. “Nothing much,” she lied before turning back to the Winchesters. “You’re welcome, by the way. Hopefully I saved you a few bruises.” 

“Yeah right.” Dean rubbed the back of his shoulder. “Or you could have been here in the beginning and just killed the sons of bitches.” 

The angel shrugged. “Maybe, but now I’m in good favor with the King of Hell. I’m thinking that might be helpful later on.” She looked down at the single body on the floor. “So. Shall we clean this up?” 

 

**T** he air was crisp and fresh, filled with the sweet promise of rain, and Alex drew in a deep breath, wings falling out against the hood of the car. She could hear the quiet bustle of people and cars all around, and she ran her fingers over the shiny exterior of her silver Marquis. She looked up when a door opened in time to see Sam, Dean, and Garth walk out of the apartment building. It was the day after, and Sam and Becky had finally signed the annulment papers. Alex had chosen to wait outside in the alley. When the three hunters approached she kicked herself off of the car and walked over to stand beside the blue Charger. 

“Well, buddy,” Dean was saying to Garth, “I got to say, man . . . you, uh, . . . you don’t suck.” He reached out and patted the hunter amiably on the arm.

Garth beamed at the praise. “Thank you. That’s the nicest thing anybody’s said to me. Well . . .” He there himself forward, wrapping his arms around Dean. 

“Wow.” The Winchester’s eyes widened in surprise, and as the embrace dragged on, awkwardly reached up to pat the scrawny man’s back. “Oh. Yeah. All right. That’s — thank you.”

Garth pulled away. “Alex.” 

Alex stepped forward, letting the hunter puller into a hug as well. “Stay safe, man,” she said as he pulled away. 

Garth nodded, and giving them one last thumb’s up, walked over to his rusted old Ford. Sam laughed as the hunter drove away. “Aww,” he teased, “you made a fwend.” 

Dean protested. “Uh-uh.” 

“Look, man,” Sam started, pausing to clear his throat. He leaned back further on the car, taking a deep breath as he continued, “when I was all dosed up I said some crap . . .”

“Oh, you mean she — she wasn’t your soulmate?” 

Sam rolled his eyes. “Shut up. You know what I mean. I do need you watching my back. Obviously.” 

“Yeah,” Dean joked, “when, uh, when crazy groupies attack.” 

Sam rolled his eyes again. “You know what I mean,” he repeated, and Alex chuckled. She sat down on the hood of her Marquis, fingers trailing over the warm metal as she nodded in agreement.

“You know, I got to say man. For a whack-job, you really pulled it together.”

“That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me,” Sam ribbed before growing serious. “Look, don’t be too impressed, man. It’s still a Denver scramble up here. I just know my way around the plate.” 

A car sped by, blasting music, and Alex cleared her throat. “We gonna hit the road?” she asked. “Cause I’m about ready to get out of this place.”

Dean nodded, looking over at the young angel. “Yeah. Start driving west. We’ll catch up.” 

“Yeah. Sounds like a plan.” Alex hurried over to her Marquis and drove away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I got a few questions from someone on ff.net so here's the quick answers for you guys too:
> 
> **Why does Alex seem so weak as an angel?**  
>  Well, let me first say that after writing, it's become pretty obvious why Castiel isn't written in so many episodes. It's hard to keep a good plot - at least hunting-wise, when one of your characters can find and smite it within the first five minutes. Also, I'm still figuring out the best way to write/describe how angels do what they do. However, be expecting some changes in Alex's abilities by the end of the season ...
> 
> **Why isn't Alex remembering some of the obvious stuff?**  
>  From the author's perspective, it's pretty hard to get a full chapter if your character can stop everything in five minutes haha. Also, as much as I would love to save some of these people, I'm not ready to go off-road yet and start making up the plot. If I can change something and it doesn't majorly affect the plot, I will. But unfortunately I can't stray too far. From the story's perspective, it has been four years since Alex has seen the show, and I imagine it's a bit hard to remember when exactly things are going to happen. Also I suppose you can argue that the universe has a way of correcting itself, but in all honestly I just need to make sure we don't stray too far from the plot haha. (I think I might have an explanation in one of the coming chapters too...)
> 
> **Anyways, thank you guys so much for reading, and I'm always looking forward to hearing what you think!**


	30. How to Win Friends and Influence Monsters

**May 7th, 2012**

**Hammonton, New Jersey**

**A** lex pulled a face at the dark exterior of the foreclosed house. The shutters hung off of the windows, and the glass, while still whole, was riddled with cracks. As she got out of the car, she noted that it didn’t seem to sag in any particular spot, but just had an overall appearance of dilapidation. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” she muttered as she followed the Winchesters up the path to the front door. “You know, we’ve been living in some pretty crappy places recently, but this one might just take the cake.” 

“Quit your whining,” Bobby grumbled from behind her. “We work the case, we get out of town. No one’s asking you to get comfortable.” 

Alex muttered an Enochian curse under her breath as one of the Winchesters fiddled with the lock until the door sprang open. Her feather curled at the musty interior, but she subserviently followed them into the house. 

Sparse wooden furniture was strewn throughout, and Alex dropped her bags beside the stairwell. “This place got power?” she asked, pushing her grace into the walls. 

“Maybe if you gave us five fucking minutes to look, we could answer that,” Dean huffed, and Alex turned to glare him. 

A hand came to rest on her shoulder, and Alex pulled her wings tight as she recognized Bobby. “Let them work, girl. Things are tense enough as is without you picking fights. Any of you,” he added with a glance towards the Winchesters. “You two get the generator; see if you can get the power working.” 

The Winchesters nodded, and Sam hurried out to the large white van parked alongside the house while Dean moved past them and down the stairs. Alex picked up the cooler Dean had set down by the floor with a grunt and carried it into the living room, staggering slightly under its weight. She dropped it on the wooden floor and slid it over towards the pile of chairs. “What can I do?” She looked over at Bobby, who was halfway up the stairs with his own bag. 

“Just get comfy. And start a fire.”

Alex looked over at the sooty fireplace. Wood was already piled up inside, and with a roll of her eyes she snapped her fingers. Her grace flickered out on command, and then fire burst into life. 

Bobby raised an eyebrow. “Alright then. Is that snapping necessary?” 

The young angel shrugged. “Dramatic flare.” She watched as Bobby disappeared up the stairs before lifting the small green cooler up onto the table. She looked around with the shake of her head. The old green wallpaper was peeling off the walls, and the entire place looked as if it hadn’t been inhabited for decades. “This is disgusting.” 

Sam returned and walked over to the basement door. “You strip enough wire?” he yelled, hurrying down. Alex heard Dean mutter out a reply, and then ten seconds later the lights flickered to life. 

The two Winchesters returned just as footfalls on the stairs announced the reentry of Bobby Singer. “Well isn’t this cozy,” Dean muttered, looking down at Sam, who sat down at the table. 

“Yeah, well, Motel 6 just ain’t leaving the light on anymore.” 

“Well, I’m taking a page out of Frank Devereaux’s bible on this,” Bobby sided with Sam. “Everybody’s out to get you — paranoia’s just plain common sense.”

“Weeks, guys. Weeks” Dean tapped the table in frustration. “We’ve been living with cold showers, cold Hot Pockets, cold fucking _everything_. I mean, this is the bottom that we’re living in. You get that, right?” 

Bobby shook his head. “How many big mouths are out there, running card chases like Chet, or hunting us down God knows what ways? No, now’s not the time to be laying our bed rolls out on the grid. Not if we can help it.” 

As if to emphasis how low they had sunken the lights suddenly flickered, and sparks flew, leaving Sam to flinch in surprise. Then the house plummeted into darkness, and Alex blinked, letting her eyes quickly readjust.

“That’s . . . just great.” Dean ran a hand down his face as Sam flicked on an LED powered lamp, illuminating the table with a harsh bluish light. “This is stupid.” Dean continued. “Our quality of life is crap.” He grabbed the cooler off of the table and walked past Bobby to drop it beside an old blanket-covered couch. “We got Purgatory’s least wanted everywhere, and we’re on our third “The World’s Screwed” issue in, what, three years?” He sat down facing the three of them. “We’ve steered this bus away from the cliff twice already.”

Alex tipped her head. “Twice?” she repeated. “Apocalypse, yes. Purgatory, no. It’s because _I_ didn’t stop Cas that we’re in this mess right here, right now.”

“For the last time, it ain’t your fault.” Bobby turned to look at the angel perched on a chair beside the fireplace. “It’s as much our fault.”

“And Crowley,” Dean added scornfully. 

“And Cas,” Alex agreed, not missing how they had refused to mention him. “But he was my mate. My responsibility. I could have stopped him. But I didn’t want to . . .” She trailed off, shaking her head. “I wasn’t ready to give everything.” 

“We could have done more too, Pip,” Dean finally said. “I’m just saying . . . what if the bus _wants_ to go over, you know?” 

Sam looked unconvinced. “You think the world wants to end?” 

“I think if we didn’t take its belt and all its pins away each year that, yeah, the whole enchilada would’ve offed itself already.”

“Stop trying to wrestle with the big picture, son,” Bobby warned. “You’re gonna hurt your head.” Dean took the hint and pulled out beer from the cooler, lying down on the couch with a grumble, and Bobby walked over to Sam. “So, what’s the guff?” He sat down at the table with the youngest Winchester. 

“Well, uh, there’s been a rash of sightings all over the southern pine barrens — a strange, fast moving, human-like creature.” Sam opened up a manilla folder crammed with articles. “Locals even have a name for it.” 

He turned them so Bobby could see, and Alex wandered closer so she could see. “Jersey Devil?”

“I thought that was local tall-tale crap,” Bobby added. 

“The area’s history of sightings go back more than two centuries,” Sam continued, neither agreeing or denying their skepticism. “Some accounts give it bat wings, others horns, a . . . a tail,” Sam laid another piece of paper down in front of them. “And, uh, oh yeah, a horse head.” 

“The sketch looks more like a Chewbacca head,” Dean added from the couch, raising his beer can up to his lips. 

“Sounds kind of mixed up,” Bobby agreed. 

“Yeah, kind of like it should be fighting a Japanese robot.”

“Well,” Sam continued, “mixed up or not, it sounds like it might just have a body count.” He pulled out a newspaper article from the back of the folder and laid it in front of Bobby. 

He picked it up to read the headline. “ ‘Camping high season harshed by human burrito’?” he read. Alex made a confused noise. 

“Yeah,” the youngest Winchester agreed before summarizing the article for them. “Something hung a camper up in a tree, then ate him _alive_ right through his sleeping bag. His wife hasn’t been seen either. Plus, there have been four other missing persons reported in the past three weeks. State troopers — get this — are saying its a rogue bear.” 

Alex grunted in acknowledgement of his statement. “Chances are it’s not the Jersey Devil,” she finally said, leaning against the back of Bobby’s chair. “I mean, you say there’s been reports for, what, two hundred years? Why are the bodies just racking up now? That’s a lot of chow to have been going on for two centuries, you know?” 

“Thing could hibernate,” Bobby suggested. “Like a Wendigo. Eats for a month or so, then goes underground for who knows how long.”

Alex shrugged. “Maybe,” she relented. “Guess we’d have to see the body.”

Bobby nodded. “Either way, something’s out there in the woods.” He leaned back in his chair, looking up at Alex. “Hey, we’re honest to goodness wilderness hunting. Haven’t used my .30-30 in a while.”

“Okay, Davey Crockett, well, safari’s gonna have to wait till tomorrow and after our suit-and-tie dance.” Dean took another sip of his beer before crossing his arms and closing his eyes. “We’ll make sure this isn’t just some backwoods crackhead to likes to roll glampers.” 

Bobby looked over at Dean. “The hell’s a glamper?” 

“Sam?” 

Sam rolled his eyes. “A high-end camper,” he explained for his brother. “TV, AC, wifi. Back to nature, zero inconvenience.” 

“That’s idiotic.” 

“Yeah.” The youngest Winchester chuckled. “Some people just don’t know how to live.” 

Alex looked over at Dean, who looked like he was ready to fall asleep right where he lay. “Me and Bobby will check out the morgue tomorrow,” she finally said. “You two want to talk to the state troopers or something?” 

Dean didn’t answer, so Sam nodded. “Yeah. I’ll make a few calls tomorrow, see who knows the most. If all goes well we’ll check out the forest afterwards.”

“Yeah.” Alex glanced over at Dean, who settled in even deeper into his couch, before turning her gaze to Sam, who was disappearing up the stairs. Bobby seemed lost in his thoughts, flipping through the articles Sam had printed out, and Alex took the chance to sneak up the stairs after Sam. 

She found him in one of the old bedrooms, rolling out his sleeping bag. “Turning in?” 

The hunter jumped slightly at her voice. “Uh, yeah,” he agreed. “That’s the plan.” He cast a quick glance in the corner, and Alex tipped her head to see Lucifer sitting against the wall, a knife in one hand. His face was scrunched in concentration, and it didn’t even look like he noticed Alex. 

Alex leaned against doorframe and turned her attention back to Sam, ignoring the archangel. “Remember how Dean went out to that bar last night?” she eventually began. When Sam grunted in agreement she continued, “Dude got really drunk.”

“Talkative drunk or moody drunk?” 

“Talkative. Said some pretty interesting things, actually.” Alex grinned as Sam turned, eyes raised in curiosity. “Started talking about my mate.” She crossed her arms, trying her best to keep the amusement out of her voice. “Something about a bet, I believe?” 

Sam bent over to pick up his duffle bag. “You’re gonna be more specific. We place a lot of bets.” He tossed his bag next to his pillow before turning back to Alex. “What . . . exactly did Dean say?” 

“Well, let’s see. Apparently all this went down before the archangel’s fight night,” she added, settling against the wall. “Um, apparently Dean totally called Cas ‘having the hots’ for me, and there was a bet on how long it would be before I slept with him?” She raised an eyebrow at the Winchester who ducked his head, probably to hide both his embarrassment and a smile. When Sam didn’t deny it she added, “Dean said he had placed his money on some needy, end-of-the-world sex, huh?” Lucifer let out a low growl at those words, but Alex ignored him. 

“Yeah, well . . .”

“Is _nothing_ sacred to you guys?” Alex said in mock disbelief. “Now we’re placing bets on my sex life?”

“Welcome to the family.” Sam shrugged of his heavy jacket and dropped it onto the sleeping bag before running his hands through his hair. “We place bets on everything. Would’ve been the easiest hundred dollars of my life, too.”

Alex smiled, but it quickly faltered. “Wait wait wait. ‘Would have been?’ There, uh, there was no end-of-the-world sex.” 

“No, no, I know. It’s just Dean only paid me fifty cause apparently he was ‘half-right’ about the two of you.” The eldest Winchester rolled his eyes. “You know, with the whole angel thing.” 

“Yeah, uh, I was there for that part.” She watched as the hunter dug his thumb into his palm, and the devil disappeared. “Well, I guess you’re probably wanting to get some sleep.” She glanced behind her towards the staircase. “See you in the morning.” 

“Yeah. See you.” 

 

 **“A** nd this was all they found?” Alex looked down at the meager scraps of bloody flesh and bone that was spread across the metal examiner table. 

The coroner nodded, stepping back when Bobby moved closer to the remains. “The, uh, bear most likely ate everything else,” she explained. 

Bobby grunted in acknowledgement of that statement before looking up. “And . . . do you believe it’s a bear?” 

“What?” The woman blinked, confused at the question posed. “I . . .” She reluctantly shook her head. “I’ve never seen any bear attack like this,” she finally confessed. “All we have on the east coast here are black bears, and not even grizzlies can pack away a full-grown man.” She looked down at the remains with another shake of her head. “Then again, I’m not sure what else it could be.” She looked up at the two hunters. “Maybe two black bears? It’s rare, but possible.”

Alex watched as Bobby turned over one of the chunks, and after a few seconds she realized it was part of a heart. She looked at Bobby, who’s face was one of deep concentration. He looked almost unrecognizable in his suit and coat, and Alex couldn’t remember the last time she had seen him without a hat on. Turning back to the remains, she made a quick mental note of what remained. Part of the skullcap, a foot, various undistinguishable chunks of smooth tissue, most likely liver or lung. Some heart, a stretch of intestines, and large fragments of bone. “Is this all that was left?” 

“Every scrap we could pick up,” the coroner agreed. “No doubt some scavengers took other scraps, so it’s really hard to know how much was actually eaten by whatever did this.”

Alex nodded in understanding. “Then again, scavengers wouldn’t take that much in a few hours. Whatever did this, it ate most of it.”

The coroner nodded, and Bobby placed the scrap back onto the table. “I think that’ll be all. We’ll be in contact.” He stripped off his glove and tossed them into the garbage before he led Alex away. 

“So Biggerson's?” she asked, following the older hunter out of the station. They had dropped the Winchesters off there to talk with one of the park rangers, and to Alex’s best knowledge they were probably still there. 

Bobby nodded and got into the large white van. “Maybe they’ve found something actually useful,” he added with a mutter. 

“That was helpful,” Alex rebutted, getting into the van as the engine turned over. “I mean, it pretty much ruled out everything we’ve ever gone up against.” 

“Exactly.” Bobby pulled the car out onto the street. “Which means we’re back at square one.” 

 

 **T** hey walked into the Biggerson's to see the Winchesters sitting at a nearby booth. Sam looked up, and Alex flicked her chin upwards in a silent greeting. Sam nudged his brother, who turned his head to see the two of them. He said something to the man he was talking to — Alex couldn’t see his face from where she stood — and then both of the Winchesters stood up and approached. “So?” Dean asked. 

“Well, we took a look at the cadaver,” Bobby explained. “What’s left of it. Not a happy camper. Don’t have any stats on the Jersey Devil, but the bite radius on the vic’s wounds — it’s too small to be a Leviathan.”

“And as far as we’ve seen Leviathans either just eat the organs or the entire thing,” Alex added. 

Bobby nodded. “He’s still got ventricles and some change, so I doubt we’re talking werewolf. And a wendigo don’t leave no scraps.” 

“Biembien?” Alex suggested. 

Bobby, however, shook his head. “On the east coast? Unlikely.” Turning back to the boys he added, “No, I have no idea what this is.” 

“Hmm.” Dean thought for a second then suggested, “Lunch?” 

“Starving.”

“Hey!” A waiter walked by, and Dean turned around to wave him down. “Uh, Brandon. We grab a booth?” 

The young man’s eyes darkened at the sight of the four of them, his demeanor cold despite the cheeriness of the buttons decorating his suspenders. “Hey, uh, douchewad, a hostess will seat you. Do I look like a freaking hostess?” He stalked away, but not before Alex caught sight of his name tag: Brandon.

“Do you want to look like a hostess?” Dean snapped back, faltering when he realized how stupid it had sounded. 

“That really didn’t make any sense what you . . . said.” 

“Dude.” Alex shook her head. “Even for you that was stupid.” 

“What was that?” Dean stared after the waiter before turning back to them. “And you can shut up.” Dean cuffed Alex over the head, and she just rolled her eyes, a stupid grin breaking out across her face. 

“I sure hope we don’t get Brandon’s section.” 

 

 **“A** nd what do you want?” Brandon didn’t even look down at their table, and Alex’s wings twitched in annoyance. She opened her menu to read off what she wanted, opening her mouth, but her hesitation only made the waiter more impatient. “I said what do you want?” 

Alex raised her head to look him in the eyes, purposefully waiting several, long seconds before saying, “Well . . . how about a cheeseburger. Actually make that a bacon cheeseburger. With fries.” She folded up her menu and tossed it towards the waiter, who gathered up the rest and stalked away. “What’s his problem?” she muttered, looking over at Dean. 

He just shrugged. “How was the morgue?” 

“Well, there wasn’t much left, for starters,” Bobby began. “There were chunks of internal organs left, but not a whole lot of bone, which basically rules out a bear attack.” 

“They like to eat the juicy bits first,” Alex explained. “And bears aren’t really all that big on eating bone, especially not an entire human skeleton.”

“Like I said, we’ve ruled out basically everything I’ve ever heard of.” 

Sam nodded. “You said it can’t be a Leviathan?” 

The old hunter shook his head, but Alex beat him to the explanation. “The bite marks were too small for their big mouths. It was definitely the size of something humanesque. Which, I guess, doubly rules out Wendigo, since they typically have a larger jaw, right?” She looked over at Bobby for confirmation. “I mean, they start mutating and by five hundred years or so have a pretty big chomper.” He nodded in agreement, and Alex fell silent. 

“The coroner said they found the camper in Wharton State Forest. Just like the others.” Bobby pulled his Coke closer and took a sip. “So I’m thinking we go there after lunch, huh?” 

Dean nodded. “Well, we talked with Ranger Evens. Well, Ranger Rick, as he prefers to be called.” He let out a snort of amusement. “He’s the one who found the Rayburn burrito, but sounds pretty sure it wasn’t a bear —” He cut off when the waiter Brandon approached carrying their food. “Wow that was fast.” 

Brandon stopped in front of them, an unreadable expression across his face. “Let’s see.” He picked up one dish and gave it to Sam. “Sidewinder soup and salad combo to Big Bird. TDK slammer to Ken Doll,” He placed Dean’s sandwich in front of him, “burger for the kid, and a little heart-smart for creepy uncle.”

Alex stared at the waiter, wings rising in agitation. “Kid?” she repeated. “We’re like the same age!”

“What is your problem?” Dean added. 

“ _You_ are my problem!” Brandon yelled, and the restaurant fell silent. He stalked away, leaving Dean to just look shocked. 

Bobby picked up his fork with a small shake of his head. “Oh, Brandon’s got his flare all up in a bunch,” he muttered. 

“Yeah,” Sam agreed, sounding more amused than the rest of them. “There goes _his_ 18%.” 

Dean just shook his head and turned back to them. “Anyways,” he began, turning the conversation back to the case at hand, “chief ranger — I don’t think he believes in the Jersey Devil.” 

“Oh, oh, by the way,” Sam interrupted, stabbing his fork into his salad as he leaned forward, “did he seem, uh, a little stoned to you?” 

“Ranger Rick? Yeah. Definitely growing his own on the back forty and smoking all the profits.” He picked up his sandwich as Sam chuckled. 

“He did seem to think there was something —”

“Oh, that’s a good sandwich.” Dean cut his brother off, mumbling around his mouthful of food. Alex let out a breath of laughter as she picked up her own burger. 

“What the hell did you get?” 

Dean turned the small triangle specials menu so Bobby could see, swallowing his food so he could talk. “New Pepperjack Turducken Slammer — limited time only.”

“Bunch of birds shoved up inside each other.” Bobby shook his head. “Shouldn’t play God like that.”

Dean defended himself. “Hey, don’t look at me sideways from that — that Chinese chicken geezer salad there, okay? This is awesome. Like the perfect storm of your top-three edible birds.” Dean took another large bite. 

“All right, anyways, um . . .” Sam turned the conversation away from Dean’s food, “the ranger did seem to think there was something out there in Wharton Forest.” 

“Well then I’d say it’s safari time.”

“She’s big-boned!” An irritated voice had Alex turning in the booth to see Brandon and the manager standing toe to toe behind the bar.

“Look at her!” Brandon yelled. “You’re telling me she’s not fat?” The manager opened his mouth, but Brandon cut him off, yanking off of his apron. “Up your, Mike. Shove it right up yours!” He threw his apron down on the bar and stalked away.

Alex turned back to the Winchesters to see they had seen the same thing she had. _Wow,_ she mouthed to Sam, who raised his eyebrows in silent agreement. Dean, however, shrugged. “Well, back to bigger and better things.” He turned back to his sandwich, and Alex rolled her eyes. 

 

 **A** lex jumped out of the truck, bending down to finish tying her hiking boots before circling around to the back of the truck to receive a rifle from Bobby. She slung it across her back and looked around the empty parking lot of Wharton State Forest. “Not a whole lot of people,” she noted. 

“Well, I’m betting the recent bear mauling scared ‘em all away.” Bobby handed rifles to both Winchesters before slinging one on his own shoulder and closing the van doors. “Well, come on.” 

He lead the way deep into the forest, and Alex willingly followed, wings spreading out and nostrils flaring as she took in the scents of the forest. “I love the forest,” she said to no one in particular. “It’s so clean and . . . pure. Untouched by man.” 

There was a hand on her shoulder, and Alex looked up to see Sam. She expected some sort of response to what she had said, but instead was asked, “Sense anything?”

Alex scratched her temple but shrugged. “I’ll see what I can do.” She unfolded her grace from her body, letting it sit just outside her skin before flicking it out in a wide circle, closing her eyes and letting the hand on her shoulder keep her grounded. She felt trees, squirrels, and birds ahead and behind them, the mist all around, and then Bobby and Dean, and finally the icy warmth of Lucifer’s grace that sat hidden in Sam’s soul. She reeled her grace back in, eyes flickering open. “Nothing,” she finally admitted. “Just a lot of trees.” 

She watched as Bobby knelt down beside some bushes. After a few seconds he pulled out a chunk of tawny hair. “Couple of bucks,” he deduced. “Head-butting over turf probably.” He stood back up and added, “Pretty sure the other fella won.”

Alex grinned in amazement before following Bobby further into the forest. “Impressive.” She scanned the forest ahead of them, futilely trying to spot the bucks but knowing full well they were long gone. 

“I guess I forgot,” Sam said after a few seconds of silence. “Before you were a hunter, you were actually a . . . hunter.” 

“Yeah, well, we shot our dinner when I was a kid,” Bobby agreed, not even looking back at them. 

“You use to take us hunting, remember?” Dean added. “Dad had a case, he’d just dump us on you. Shoot, you must have taught us most of the outdoor tracking we know.”

“Yeah, what I could get to stick. I never could get you little grubs to pull a trigger on a single deer.” 

Dean shook his head in disgust, but a grin gave him away. “You’re talking about shooting Bambi, man!”

“You don’t shoot Bambi, you jackass.” Bobby shook his head before adding smugly, “You shoot Bambi’s mother.” Bobby turned right and led the way down a small slope. 

Alex followed, slowing to a stop when her gaze drifted upwards. “Uh, guys?” She let her rifle drop out of her hands and swing to her back before raising her finger towards the pine tree high above her. “That’s not normal, right?” 

A body hung from the lowest branches, torn and bloody. The three other hunters slowed underneath the tree, and Dean stopped beside Alex. “I think we found Phil.”

“Who’s Phil?” Alex circled around the tree, one hand reaching up to grasp at a branch. “Want me to get him down?”

“Why don’t we hold up, huh?” Bobby suggested. 

“Phil’s Ranger Rick’s partner,” Dean explained. “Went missing a couple of days ago.” 

Alex pulled herself up into the tree, wings flaring out to steady herself. She quickly clambered up into the pine, her lithe body easily supported by the thick tree. She reached the body and looked down at the Winchesters, whose gazes she had felt the entire climb. “He’s been dead maybe a day,” she called down. “And there’s not a whole lot left.” She moved upwards and brought her boot down, knocking the body out of the tree. It fell and hit the pine needle ground with a dull thud. “Careful,” she yelled when the Winchesters jumped back with a sharp noise. “It may splatter.” 

She shimmied down the tree and jumped to the ground to see Bobby kneeling beside the corpse. “There’s not much left,” he agreed. “Heart’s still there.”

“And werewolves don’t stash their prey in trees,” Alex agreed. “And they don’t really hunt in the forest like this; they’re more city hunters.” She looked over at Dean. “So. We gonna call this one in?” 

“Yeah.” Dean nodded and retreated a few steps, pulling out his phone. 

Alex knelt down beside Bobby, pulling her rifle into her lap. “Well? Anything useful?” Her gaze focused on the flesh that remained on the mangled arm. “Look at that.” She pointed where a clear bite mark could be seen. “That’s almost humanoid. I mean, those are molars there.” 

Bobby grunted in agreement. “I have no idea what this is.” He looked over at Alex. “Why don’t you make a loop?” he suggested. “See what you can see. Make sure we’re alone.”

“Yeah.” Alex stood up. “Sounds like a good idea.” 

 

 **T** he sky had grown dark by the time a car pulled up to them. Alex was propped up in one of the trees, wings curled around her to keep her warm. At the first sign of the bright headlights, however, she uncurled them, stretching her arms high above her head as she bit back a yawn. She heard the Winchesters shift below her as they saw the same thing, and she slowly climbed down, dropping her rifle onto the soft ground before jumping off of the lowest branch. 

The three hunters had the small flashlights attached to their rifles on, and after a second’s hesitation Alex did the same, darting the beam across the underbrush to her left. 

The truck hummed to a stop and the door opened, and a second later a man approached. “Special agents,” he grinned. “Got your call, but I’m not sure I got what you were saying.” Dean and Sam exchanged looks, and then Dean stepped away, directing his light towards the body at the base of the tree. The ranger nodded. “Hey. I think we found Phil.” 

“That’s what I said,” Dean agreed. 

Ranger Rick let out a small laugh at the coincidence. “Uh, I should probably call this in.” He looked between the hunters, only moving away when Dean nodded. 

“Yeah, yeah, solid move, Rick,” Sam agreed, and Alex walked up to stand at his side. He looked down at her, and she shrugged. 

“Does he _still_ seem pretty high?” she asked, watching him go. Sam grunted in agreement, but before he could answer something large moved in the undergrowth. Alex turned, rifle pointed at the bushes, grace flicking out. 

“Uh, this is Ranger Evans up at Acher’s point. Come in.” The Ranger kept going, apparently oblivious to what was happening. “Uh, repeat. This is _Chief_ Ranger Evans.” 

“What’s out there?” Bobby was at her side in an instant, and Alex shook her head. 

“I don’t . . . know.” She flicked out her grace again, this time in a wide circle. “All . . .” She looked up at Bobby. “All I feel are us. Well, humans. I don’t feel anything . . . nonhuman —”

A cry and a snarl cut her off, and she spun back around to see that Ranger Rick was gone. “Hey!” 

“Ranger!” Sam took off through the woods, and after a second’s hesitation Alex followed, fear prickling at her hairline at the inability to recognize what was there. “Ranger!” Sam yelled again. “Ranger Evans!” He slid to a stop, and Dean and Alex did the same, grace pushing out into the trees. 

“What is it?” Dean snapped. 

“I don’t _know_.” Alex shook her head. “I can —”

“Can you kill it?” Sam added. “With your grace.”

Alex blinked in confusion. “I — I guess. But I’ll kill everything within a mile radius.” 

“Turn off your light,” Bobby ordered. “Shut up, shut off, and listen.” He turned off his rifle light, and Sam and Dean did the same. 

Alex closed her eyes, listening, and she heard rustling up in the trees. “It’s in the trees,” she whispered as the sound of tearing flesh filled her ears. 

“Damn thing’s eating Rick,” Bobby added. 

“Man, I liked Rick.” 

Alex looked over at Dean who just shrugged, sticking with his statement. She turned back to the trees and closed her eyes, grace pushing out and upwards; she jumped when the sound of a discharging rifle filled the forest. The rustling stopped, and there was a loud thud in front of them. 

Alex opened her eyes to see what lay at their feet. “Wow,” she heard Dean praise. “Nice shot, Bobby.” 

Bobby shrugged. “We all got our gifts.” 

Alex stared down at the humanoid corpse. It’s skin was bluish in color, and its eyes bugged out of its skull, but were cloudy with cataracts. Blood stained the tattered rags he wore, and beside him lay the bloodied tatters of Rick’s arm. She pulled her grace back into her body in confusion before looking over at Bobby. “It . . . it’s human?” She returned her eyes back to the creature. “It feels like a human.” 

“What about the rest of Ranger Rick?” Dean dared ask, flicking back on the light of his rifle to illuminate the corpse. 

“Ranger called in his 10-20,” Bobby said. “His own will find him. We got stuff to do.” He slung his rifle across his back. “Help me get this thing to the car, would ya?” He picked up the legs, and Sam hurried to help, grabbing the arms and lifting. Alex and Dean trailed behind as they made their way back through the forest. 

Suddenly Alex stopped. “Wait wait wait. Get away!” Sam and Bobby dropped the corpse, and it fell to the ground with a thud. Alex was on it in the next second, angel blade sliding into it’s chest. The creature convulsed twice before falling still, and she pulled her blade way and retreated. 

“What the hell was that?” Bobby sounded confused and startled, and Alex wiped her blade clean before sliding it back into her sleeve. 

“It — it wasn’t dead,” she shakily explained. “I felt it’s heart beating. Brain was still functioning.” She pushed her grace against it before pulling back. “It’s dead now. The — the bullet must only have stunned it or something.” 

Bobby grunted. “Well, thanks. Glad you got to it before it woke.” 

“Course,” Alex agreed. “That’s what I’m here for, isn’t it? To keep your sorry asses from being torn apart.”

Bobby snorted in neither agreement nor denial, and he and Sam picked the body back up and carried it out to the van. 

 

 **W** ithin ten minutes the two hunter were heaving the blue corpse onto the kitchen table. Alex threw firewood into the fireplace and flames jumped into being, and she turned back to examine the body closer. “Thing’s fugly as fuck.” 

“Built like a supermodel, but the thing was strong, that’s for damn sure,” Bobby added. “Carried a full-grown into the trees in nothing flat.” 

“But it only took one bullet to bring it down.” The youngest Winchester crossed his arms. “Well, one bullet to stun it. Who knows what kills it.”

“And it wasn’t even a silver bullet,” Dean reminded. “Just a bullet-bullet.” He walked over to the corpse. “Alright, well, let’s check his hulk pants for some ID.” He reached into the creature’s brown pockets and pulled out a leather wallet. “Oh, this is just gonna ruin the leather,” he muttered. 

Alex looked over to see Bobby and Sam exchange glances. “Are you feeling okay?” Bobby asked. 

The eldest Winchester looked confused. “Yeah, I feel great,” he promised.

Sam took the wallet from his brother’s hands and opened it. “Gerald Bower,” he read. “Uh, lived here in town, 5’9”, brown hair and blue eyes . . .” He looked over at his brother. “235 pounds.”

Alex ran an eye over the creature’s lean structure. “I don’t think that’s 235 pounds.” 

Bobby nodded in agreement. “Well, apparently he lost a little pudge.” 

“Might be a lap-band side effect.” Dean laughed at his own joke, but he was the only one. 

Alex glanced over at Dean in confusion before Bobby’s movement had her turning back to him. He had a small stick in his hand from the fireplace, and he was pressing it into the bullet hole in his chest. When he pulled it out, he grimaced. “What is that?” Alex leaned forward to see the dark grayish goo that hung from the of the stick, thick as mucus. 

Bobby shook his head. “No idea. But I think we better have a closer look under Gerald’s hood.” He discarded the stick into the corner of the room before looking at Alex. “Bag’s out in the back of the van. Run and get it, would ya?” 

Alex nodded and hurried out of the house. She unlocked the van with a wave of her grace and slid into the back on her stomach, grasping for the black bag that lay just out of her reach. Her wings flittered as she stretched her fingers even further, wrapping around the black handle and pulling it close. She crawled out of the van and kicked the door closed, grace searching the forest around her as she hurried back into the house. 

Dean was somewhere in the kitchen when Alex handed the bag to Bobby, who grunted his thanks. He and Sam had already stripped the body of it’s shirt, and Alex watched as he put on a pair of latex gloves. He pulled out the scalpel and cut a large Y incision in Gerald’s abdomen. He peeled the skin and muscle back, and Alex handed him the pruning shears from the bag, watching as he cut through the ribs, revealing the organs that lay beneath. She put on her own pair of gloves and shifted closer to Sam, pulling back the skin so she could see what lay beneath. “This is weird,” she finally said. 

Bobby dropped the shears onto the ground beside him and nodded. “Organs look all in their right place,” he finally said. “I think.” 

“Sort of confirms this thing was born human,” the young angel expounded, even though she was sure the Winchesters knew. “Although I have a feeling that the blue skin and cataracts confirm he really isn’t any more.” 

Bobby shook his head, dipping his finger into the grey goo that filled his chest cavity. “God,” he exclaimed in disgust. “Its organs are swimming in this stuff.” 

Dean chose that moment to walk back into the room, a glass of whiskey in his hands. “You guys getting hungry?” he asked casually. “I’m hungry.” 

Alex rolled her eyes, but she saw Bobby and Sam exchange glances. Sam turned his attention back to the open chest. “What is that?” he asked, pointing towards a large, distended organ. 

Alex curled her lip at the smell, and Bobby answered, “His stomach. For a guy on a diet, Gerry here packed it in pretty good.” 

Alex held out the scalpel, wordlessly asking Sam if he wanted to cut it open to see what was inside. The Winchester accepted her gesture, cutting through the thin membrane to reveal its contents. “That’s human right there,” he said with a grimace. 

“It’s fresh Rick,” Alex agreed, eyes taking in the stomach’s contents. 

“Let’s see.” Bobby reached across the corpse to dig his fingers into the stomach. “And . . . a pine cone?” He pulled out the cone and dropped it in the plastic bucket before digging back in. “Pack of gum in the wrapper.”

“That’s — that’s older.” Sam pointed to a clump of stringy meat situated near the pyloric sphincter. “Maybe like a — a Ranger Phil or the camper.” 

“Might be human,” Alex agreed. “Then again I think we can assume he isn’t on a strictly human-only diet.” 

Bobby grunted in agreement before pointing towards a large object in the center of the stomach. “What’s that?” he posed, and Alex reached in, fingers closing around the object. 

She pulled it out. “It’s solid,” she described, turning it so she could examine it closer. “I think it’s . . . I think it’s a cat’s head.” She held it so the two other hunters could see. “Yeah, that is most definitely a cat’s head.” Sam shuddered in disgust, and she let out a small grin to see something she could handle but he couldn’t.

“A glamper or two is one thing,” Bobby began, “but you got to be damn hungry to eat a cat’s head.” Sam hummed in agreement, and Alex dropped the head into the bucket with a shake of her head. She watched as Bobby stopped over a large, dark organ. “I’m no Dr. Oz, but . . .” He pulled out the bumpy tissue, “I think that’s his adrenal gland.” 

He held it up so all could see, and Alex glanced behind her to see Dean cleaning a stain off the corner of his jacket collar with his tongue. He looked up, but seemed surprisingly unaffected by the smell as he took another long sip of whiskey. Sam, however, curled a lip at the sight. “Okay, and?” 

“Meant to be the size of hotel bar soap . . . and bright orange.” Bobby placed the organ into the bucket, and Alex wrinkled her nose at the strong smell. 

“Ooh.” Sam winced as well. “Well, that might help explain the strength,” he finally said. “Um, but whatever it is, it’s not the Jersey Devil, but it sure as hell ain’t Gerald Browder any more.” 

“Okay, guys, seriously.” Dean finally spoke, and Alex turned to face him. He finished his whiskey and looked at at the three of them. “Is it time for dinner?”

“In a minute,” Alex promised, rolling her eyes. “Let us close him up. Why don’t you go start the car, okay?” 

Dean muttered something under his breath, but Alex heard him move away. “We’re going to Biggerson’s,” he called over his shoulder, and then the door slammed close. 

“Maybe he should lay off the whiskey for a while,” Alex snorted. “I think he’s been drinking a _little_ too much.” She folded the creature’s skin back over its chest and peeled off her gloves. “So. Shall we set up a bonfire in the back and let him roast while we eat? I’ll get some wood.” 

Bobby hesitated. “Let’s just set him in the basement for now,” he suggested instead. “No point in drawing attention to us if the fire gets out of control, you know?” 

Alex rolled her eyes, reluctantly admitting he was right. “Fine. Then let’s go eat.” An impatient honk from outside had Alex grabbing her jacket and hurrying out the door. 

 

 **A** lex stared down at her Turducken Slammer, not truly sure what to make of it. Dean was already sitting across from her, chewing happily away at his sandwich, and Sam sat beside her, his laptop open to the New Jersey State Police database. “Gerald Browder, 35, self-employed. An air conditioning repair man.” He looked over at Bobby. “Missing person number three. Disappeared eight days ago.” 

“Well, that explains all the people who got eaten in the last eight days,” Bobby agreed. 

Sam nodded. “Yeah. Question is, what happened to him?” 

He looked over at Dean, who shrugged. “I’m not that worried about it,” he admitted and took another bite. He moaned around his food, obviously enjoying it. 

Alex raised an eyebrow, picking up her own sandwich. She studied it from both sides and then shrugged and took a bite. Then she spit it out on the plate, dropping her sandwich onto the table. “Fuck!” 

All three hunters stared at her, and Alex ran her tongue through her teeth several times, scraping off all evidence of the sandwich. “What?” Sam finally asked, looking both amused and concerned. 

“What the hell is that?” Alex motioned towards the food before taking a long drink of her Pepsi. Her grace shuddered and she shifted closer to the tall hunter. “That — that —” Dean took another bite of his food and Alex reached across the table. “No don’t eat that!” she hissed, but Dean leaned away. 

“What are you talking about?” he defended. “This is the best damn sandwich I’ve ever eaten.”

“Best?” Alex repeated. “I, I — if _Leviathans_ had a taste, that would be it. It’s _hideous_ , Dean!” She shuddered again at the taste. 

Dean shrugged. “Probably some angel thing,” he decided. “Cause this is absolutely heavenly.” He took another bite and moaned, and Alex took a crouton off of Sam’s plate. 

“It’s not me,” she insisted, popping the small piece of bread into her mouth. She looked over at Dean. “There is something _wrong_ with that sandwich.” 

“Whoa.” Sam’s whispered word had Alex following his gaze around the restaurant. “Oh my God.” The Biggerson’s was packed, but not a single person spoke. They all ate slowly, gaze on their food, jaws slowly moving. Alex’s wings flared out, and she pushed her grace out through the restaurant. 

“Oh my God.” Alex echoed Sam. “Dean!” She leaned forward and knocked the sandwich out of his hands, ignoring how the hunter cried out in protest. 

“What the hell?” 

“It’s the damn sandwich. It’s got to be.” Alex pushed her grace against Dean when he reached for her own discarded food; he recoiled with a curse. “ _Look_ at the people. They’re like freaking zombies.” She waited until Dean and Bobby took a quick glance around before adding, “There’s something wrong with them. I felt the same damn thing in Gerald — it was a little different, but it was the same. It’s in the sandwich too —”

“And you’re just learning this _now?”_ Bobby snapped. 

“Contrary to popular belief I don’t sense these things automatically,” Alex hissed back, feathers fluttering out. “It takes time, it take energy, and we really should get out of here. Like now.” 

 

 **T** en minutes later she was seated on the kitchen counter in their abandoned house, while Bobby and Sam stood around the table, staring down at the foil-wrapped leftovers. Dean sulked in the corner, arms crossed. “This is stupid,” he insisted, voice slightly slurred. “My sandwich didn’t do anything.” With a glare at his brother he added, “I don’t know what you think you’re gonna find.” 

Sam didn’t answer, but slowly unwrapped Dean’s leftover sandwich. Bobby however, looked up, face unreadable. “There’s something wrong with you, Dean.” 

“You feel funky,” Alex added, reaching out with both her grace and her finger. She poked him in his temple. “You and all those people. Not with your soul; just . . . you.” 

“Are you kidding?” Dean knocked her hand away. “I feel fine! I — I actually feel great. The best I’ve felt in a couple months. Cas? Black goo? I don’t even care anymore. And you know what’s even better? I don’t care that I don’t care.” In a more petulant tone he added, “I just want my damn slammer back.”

Sam shook his head in disbelief, leaning down to study the sandwich. “Dude, you are completely stoned, just like Ranger Rick was.” 

Alex grunted in agreement, and Bobby added, “Just like the dinner rush at Biggerson’s. And everyone’s loving the Turducken.” 

Something prickled at the air, and Alex tipped her head, grace pushing out to pinpoint the change. Her gaze was brought to the unwrapped sandwich, which bubbled with grey goo. “Oh.” She pulled a face. “Ew.” 

Dean shared her surprise. “I think you pissed off my sandwich.” More goo bubbled out, and both Bobby and Sam startled at the sight. Dean put a hand on his stomach, managing to look somewhat sick. “That — that’s inside me?” 

“O-Only half of it.” 

“Does that snot look familiar?” Bobby asked.

Alex nodded, and Sam said, “Okay, so whatever turned Gerald Browder into a pumpkin head . . . and is currently changing Dean into an idiot —”

“I’m right here,” Dean reminded. “Right here.”

“Is in the Turducken Slammer at Biggerson’s,” Bobby finished. 

“It’s in the meat.” Alex’s wings curled forward in curiosity, and she slid off of the counter. “Question is why did Browder hulk out while everyone else is acting all sheep-headed?” She looked up at Sam and Bobby, looking for their opinion.

Sam shook his head. “Yeah, that’s not the biggest question.”

“It is for me.” Alex looked down as more slime slid out of the sandwich. 

Dean did the same. “If I wasn’t so chilled out right now,” he informed them, “I would puke.” Alex patted him on the back, and he gave her a dopey smile before walking over to the cooler to pull out a beer. 

“Okay,” the young angel tried again, “so next step is to figure out where this meat is coming from, huh?” She looked around the dark and rotting house. “Awesome. Can’t say I’ll be missing this place.” She walked out of the kitchen and picked up her bag. “When are we leaving?” 

 

 **T** wenty minutes later Alex was kneeling in the back of the white van, fingers tangled in Sam’s hair. She pulled his head closer, reeling back when a hand came up to swat her away. “Leave me alone.”

She ignored the warning. “You have pretty hair,” she said instead, taking a chunk and breaking it into three parts. “I’m gonna braid it.” She heard Bobby snorted in amusement, and swore she saw Sam roll his eyes in the mirror. “Now sit still and watch.” Her gaze flickered towards the back of the Biggerson’s where they were awaiting the delivery truck that was to bring the meat to the restaurant. 

Dean snored on the floor beside her, having long since fallen into a deep sleep. Sam craned his neck to look down at his brother, and Alex huffed, wings flicking in protest. Sam obediently turned his head back. “How’s he doing?” he asked. 

“He’s sleeping it off,” Bobby promised. “Tryptophan coma.” 

Alex nodded in agreement, grace pushing against the sleeping hunter. “He’s doing better,” she informed them. “Whatever the hell was in his system’s wearing off. He’ll be fine when he wakes up.” 

“So you think he’s okay?” Sam rephrased. 

“Yeah he’s alright.”

“Good. So you don’t worry about him?” 

Bobby turned his head to look at the younger Winchester, a small frown on his face. “What do you mean? Before the Turducken?” 

“Yeah. Yeah, I kind of mean more like, uh . . . more like ever since my head broke and . . .” After a short pause he added, “since we lost Cas.” Alex folded her wings forward in grief, curling them around Sam Winchester. Sam continued, not feeling the change, “I mean, you do ever feel like he’s — he’s going through the same motions, but he’s not the same Dean, you know?” 

To their surprise Bobby just shrugged. “How could he be?”

“Right, yeah, but what if —”

The hunter immediately cut him off. “What if what, Sam? You know, you worry about him. All he does is worry about you. Who’s left to live their own life here? The two of you —” Bobby shook his head and started again. “Aren’t you full up just playing Snuffleupagus with the devil all the live long?” 

Sam turned his attention back out the windshield. “I don’t know, Bobby. Seeing Lucifer’s fine with me.” 

“Come again?” 

Sam looked back at Alex, who shrugged. “I haven’t had a problem with him,” she admitted. “Hell, I haven’t even really seen him in a while.” She looked down at Sam. “Is he sulking again?”

Sam shook his head. “I, uh, I don’t know. Look.” He turned back to Bobby, and Alex turned back to braiding Sam’s hair. “I’m not saying it’s fun. I mean, to be honest with you, I-I kind of see it as the best-case scenario. I mean, at least all my crazy’s under one umbrella, you know? I kind of know what I’m dealing with, and I’m not alone.”

Alex grunted. “Just doing my civic duty.”

“A lot of people have it worse,” Sam finished. 

“You always were one deep little son of a bitch.” 

Alex chuckled, but the rumble of an approaching van had her cutting off. Sam must have heard it too, because he suddenly sat up in his seat. “Wait wait wait.” A large semi pulled into the back of the Biggerson’s parking lot. “Here we go.” 

Alex leaned forward to watched as the man unloaded the boxes of meat into the back of the restaurant, and before long the truck was starting back up and driving away. “So . . .”

Bobby shrugged. “Well, I guess we follow him.”

 

 **I** t was an hour before the truck ahead of them pulled off the road and into the parking lot of a large building. Bobby parked the van, and Sam pulled out his binoculars to get a better look. “That’s weird, right?” Sam piped up. “I mean, a national franchise like Biggerson’s getting meat from a place that looks like a wholesales Hong Kong ripoff.” 

“Okay, yeah, it’s a little weird.”

Alex glanced over at Dean, who had woken up ten minutes earlier. He was holding a small coffee mug, and had gone through almost the entire thermos already. He met her gaze only briefly before it turned back out the windshield to see the truck driver enter the warehouse. 

“Alright, well, I guess we wait till they close up shop, go take a look around?” 

Alex nodded in agreement with Sam’s statement, glancing towards the horizon, where the sun was starting to appear. “I can go right now,” she offered. “Circle around the place, see what I can see.” She reached for the door, but a hand on her shoulder had her turning around. 

“Hang on a second.” Bobby turned back to face out the front of the car, and Alex pulled back, following his gaze. A car had pulled up, and she flicked her grace before wheeling back with a sharp breath. Bobby looked confused. “What?” 

“We-we should get out of here.” Alex situated her grace so it was reached just outside the confines of her skin. “There’s a Leviathan in that car.”

“What? No.” Sam stared in disbelief as a very familiar figure got out of the car. “No.”

“Edgar.” Dean spat the name, and Alex shifted closer to him, wings pulling in tight at the memory of that Leviathan, the very same one who had been there when her home had burned. As she watched the Leviathan circled around to the trunk and pulled it open, yanking out a blindfolded human. Dean made a confused noise. “Brandon? That son of a bitch.” 

“The waiter?” Alex carefully pushed her grace out, avoiding the cold and slimy taint of the creature to feel the human’s soul. “Yeah, that’s him. Why?” She looked over at Bobby. “What the hell is going on?” 

Edgar and Brandon disappeared into the warehouse, and Alex watched in surprise as Sam opened the door. “Come on.” He nudged Alex’s on the shoulder before looking over at Bobby and Dean. “We’ll make a loop of the building. We’ll be careful,” he promised. “Come on.” 

Alex reluctantly followed him out of the car. “Why me?” she whispered, hurrying after the youngest Winchester, even though she full well knew the answer. Her angel blade slipped into her hands, and she cast a dark glance towards the warehouse. 

“Dean’s still getting over that sandwich.” Sam led the way along the line of hedges that separated the parking lot the van sat in from the lot of the warehouse. “And you’re an angel. Maybe you can give an estimate of how many are in there.”

Alex shook her head at the notion. “Listen,” she said. “Most creatures don’t feel it when I touch them with her grace.” She pushed hers into Sam to demonstrate. “But these things are _old_ , man. Pre-angel old. And they have a fuckton of juice. I don’t know if they can feel it, but I sure as hell don’t want to find out.” She waved her angel blade in the air for emphasis as she added, “I mean, I’m pretty sure this thing does squat against them. I’d be like stabbing one with a toothpick.” 

“Yeah, well, it’s better than nothing.” 

Sam hurried away, leaving Alex shaking before running after him, muttering, “Yeah, just barely.” 

 

 **T** hey had made it to the north side of the building before Sam’s phone rang. Alex jumped, cursing under her breath as the Winchesters answered it. “Hello.” He glanced over at Alex and mouthed, _Bobby_. “There’s nothing happening back here at all,” he told the older hunter on the phone. After a second’s pause he nodded. “Right.” 

“Well?” 

“He says finish up and meet back at the van.” Sam shoved his phone in his pocket with a wary glance toward the building. “Come on.” 

Alex followed after the younger hunter, falling into step at his side. “I don’t like it out here,” she muttered, pulling her hands up into the sleeves of her jacket. “Too many Leviathans. One’s bad enough, two’s worse. But a whole damn building full of them?” 

Sam sharply looked down at her. “There’s more than Edgar? How many?” 

“I-I dunno. I just assumed . . . if Edgar brought Brandon in, who definitely wasn’t a Leviathan — why else would he bring him in there if there weren’t more? They’re probably running the entire place.” She raised her head to see if she could catch sight of the van as they rounded the corner. “I wonder why they needed him.”

Sam shook his head. “No idea.”

Alex looked up into the sky, which was already growing quite light. “And what the hell are they doing with those sandwiches? I mean, seriously. Just . . . why?” 

“You can ask them later.”

Alex grunted, lengthening her stride to reach the van first. She threw open the back doors in time to hear Dean mutter to Bobby, “ — need to scrape some money together, buy you a condo.”

“Hey.” Sam jumped into the back of the van beside her. “Something’s up.” He pulled the back doors closed as Alex picked up the sound of approaching cars. As she watched as two black SUVs pulled up in front of the warehouse, and a man got out and opened the door. Alex tipped her head as a well-dressed man stepped out, fixing his tie as he looked around. Clean-shaven, dark hair, and from what Alex could see, cold eyes. She kept her grace in tight, but cast a quick look at Bobby to see his reaction. 

“Well I’ll be a squirrel in a skirt,” the old hunter muttered. “It’s Dick fucking Roman.” 

“What?” Dean looked over at his surrogate father before his gaze flickered back to Alex and Sam. “Who the hell is Dick fucking Roman?” 

“Only one of the most powerful men in this country.” Bobby turned in his seat. “Hand me that laptop, would ya?” 

Alex nodded, turning, but Sam got their first, handing the small computer over to the hunter. “Here.” He dug in his bag and pulled out a small round box. “And, uh, here.” He handed the small hotspot box to Dean, who tossed it onto the dashboard as Bobby powered up the computer. 

“Here.” He clicked on a icon, and a video pulled up. The man from the SUV was on the screen, standing in front of a wooden podium. Across the bottom of the screen read the title, THE RISE OF DICK. Alex let out a snort as Bobby turned on the sound. 

“Billionaire Dick Roman,” a reporter said, “seen here at a recent press conference, has been on the corporate-takeover warpath in the last several months and shows no signs of relenting.” 

The man faded out, and Roman’s voice came through. “I believe in good old American values,” he was saying., “like unlimited growth. But it’s like I always say — if you want to win, then you got to be the shark. And the shark’s got to eat.” The news footage cut ahead a few seconds, and the camera changed to a new angle. “Well, that’s a great question. Yes, we have made new acquisitions. I don’t believe in hostile takeovers. I believe in merging . . . and coming out on top.” 

“He’s good,” Alex muttered. 

The reporter began speaking again. “Whether at the helm of his American’s cup-winning yacht or one of his Fortune 500 companies, Roman has never shied away from the spotlight. Roman’s record-breaking series of motivational seminars, ‘When in Rome,’ have outsold every other money-making programs on the market. A vocal member of the NRA and a steadfast supporter of the second amendment, Roman has started attracting some conservative political attention as well.” 

“Roman is ruthless, but good-looking. I think he’ll make a great candidate.”

Dick Roman was back on the screen. “Another great question. No I am not running for political office at this time . . .”

Alex watched as the video continued for several more seconds before the video ended and the screen went black. “Wow,” she finally said. “We’re up against _that?”_

“What the hell was that?” Dean added. 

“That’s one of the 50 most powerful men in American, Dean.”

“Says here top 35 as of last month.” Dean pointed to an article that Bobby had pulled up. “Now it’s all making sense. Remember when Crowley kept going on about hating Dick? I thought he was just being general.” Alex snorted in amusement, nodding as she recalled the events. 

“Well, if the Leviathans got to him, then that means we’re playing on a much bigger board than we were thinking.” He looked over at Alex. “Well? Got any ideas of what’s going on?” 

The young angel hesitated, then shook her head. “I . . . I never got all the way through season 7,” she admitted. “This is season 7. With the Leviathans and all. I saw like, five episodes, and the weren’t even in order. Uh, Dick sounds vaguely familiar. I feel like I remember reading that there was just a lot of dick jokes.” 

Dean leaned back in his seat, and although Alex couldn’t see it, he probably rolled his eyes. “Great. You don’t know anything?”

“I know Cas isn’t dead, Leviathans are dicks — no pun intended — and that Lucifer came back in some way. Apparently those were Sam’s hallucinations. If something else rings a bell, I’ll let you know, but being in the middle of it all is a little bit stressful and nothing like watching it on a screen.” She cut herself off, knowing the brothers had already heard her rant before. “Sorry.” 

“No, you’re fine.” Bobby got out of the van, and Alex tipped her head curiously as she heard him circle around to the back of the van. He reappeared again when he opened the doors. 

“So what, then?” Sam asked. “I mean, we can’t exactly outgun them.” He slid into the driver’s seat to make more room for Bobby in the back.

“No,” Bobby agreed, “but we got the drop on them. Means we got the chance to figure out what these guys are really doing here.” He pulled out a hard black case and opened it, and Alex peered curiously inside as he pulled a round, black dish and a thick rod. 

He put the two pieces together; the click had Dean turning in his seat. “Whoa. Where’d you get that motherfucker?” 

“It’s on loan from Frank’s big brother collection. It’ll pick up vocal vibrations from window glass at half a mile. It’s time to figure out what these ugly bastards are up to.”

Alex nodded, watching as he attached two wires between the handle and the dish. “I’ll go with you.” 

To her surprise, the hunter shook his head. “I’ll go onto the roof of the neighboring building.” He made a vague gesture towards the right. “You go left. You still have angel hearing, right?” 

“Yeah, sort of. I can probably heighten it with my grace. Otherwise I can pretty close without them noticing, too. I’m good at people not seeing me. But you’re sure you don’t want me with you?” When Bobby shook his head she teased, “Positive? You know,” she added with a tease, “this might be out last hunt together, Singer.” 

“Yeah, you’d like that, wouldn’t you.” Bobby got out of the van, and Alex followed. “Get as close as you can, but don’t go inside. And for God’s sake, don’t blow it.” With that he walked away, and Alex rolled her eyes, shooting a half-hearted salute in his direction. Then she hurried off to the left. 

Once she was out of sight from the van, she pulled out her phone and called Sam Winchester. It took two rings before he answered, but when he did his voice was tense with concern. “Alex? What’s wrong?” 

The young angel rolled her eyes. “I missed you,” she said in a childish voice. She heard a voice in the background. “Is that Luci? Give him a kiss for me, huh?” 

“What do you want?” 

“What? I don’t know. Did Bobby seem a little tense to you? I mean, ‘don’t blow it?’ Really?” She rolled her eyes again, lowering her voice as she glanced towards the warehouse she was beside. 

“I dunno. I can’t really blame him, you know?” She heard a low static as Sam shifted in his seat, and she lengthened her stride, grace prickling uncomfortably under her skin. “I mean, suddenly this is Leviathans? You can’t blame us all for feeling a little stressed.” 

“Yeah, I know what you mean. But he didn’t need to snap at me. Are you sure the two of you are okay there? I can come back if you want.” 

She heard Sam snort. “Scared?” 

“I don’t like Leviathans either.” Alex paused when she heard voices. “Hang on.” She snapped her phone closed and gently pushed her grace out, trying to feel what lay just out of her sight. Her shoulders fell in relief as she recognized two human souls, and she moved off to the left, hands in her pockets in a half-hearted attempt to look casual. 

She passed the two of them with no looks exchanged; the two humans continued on right past, heads bowed in conversation. The minute they were out of sight, however, Alex hurried over to the wall, all senses focused on what lay behind. 

She heard muffled voices and she closed her eyes, trying to make on the words beyond. After a few seconds, she recognized the voice of Mr. Dick Roman. “Now,” he was saying, “What about your failures?”

“Hmm?” That was another male voice, one Alex couldn’t place. “My . . .”

“The ones that went off the rails after they ate your little treats.” 

_Treats?_ Alex took a step to her left, following the voices as they moved. _Brandon, perhaps? And Gerald Browder?_

The man on the other side of the wall seemed to be having difficulty answering the question. “I, um . . . they’re, uh . . . they’ve been very informative.” 

Alex raised her eyebrows at his stumbled response, and from the sound of it, Roman wasn’t buying it either. “No. See, I asked for complacency. Not complacency and a 0.03% margin of hyeradrenalized cannibalism.” 

“They’re under control.” 

“ ‘Camping Season Harshed by Human Burrito?” Alex snickered at the headline that Roman read. “Have I ever mentioned how I feel about our little forays making the papers? But then again, collaboration.” Roman’s voice faded into the distance as he walked away from the wall, and Alex pulled away, wings in tight. 

She looked around before digging her phone out of her pocket. “Sam.” 

“Now what?” Once again the hunter sounded concerned. “You okay?” 

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine, man. Great. Listen, you won’t believe what I just heard.” Alex started walking back along the building. “Dick fucking Roman. Whatever was in the meat was definitely put there by these mofos. Better yet, the point of it’s to make the consumers _complacent_. Although apparently there’s a small chance you’ll turn into a over-adrenalized cannibal instead.”

“Seriously?” 

“Yeah. Exciting, I know.” Alex sighed, glancing over at the building. There was a static noise over the phone, and her wings twitched in curiosity. “Is that Bobby? How’s he doing?” 

“Uh, fine, I think. Uh, hang on.” Sam went silence, and Alex cocked an eyebrow at the unintelligible garble on the other end. After a couple seconds Sam was back. “He says he’s got movement. Dick Roman, second floor.” 

“Huh. Well, I’ll meet you back at the van. Ten four.” Alex hung up and shoved her phone into her pocket. 

 

 **F** ive minutes later she had circled back around the building and was climbing into the back of the van. Sam and Dean were still in the front seat, listening to the cell phone that Dean was holding in one hand. “Wait,” the old hunter was saying. 

Sam and Dean exchanged glances, and Alex leaned forward, both concerned and confused. “What?” she asked. “Everything okay?” 

“He’s making the doctor eat himself.”

Alex grinned in surprise. “What I wouldn’t give to see that,” she admitted, mostly out of curiosity. “That’s — that’s rough.”

The Winchesters, however, weren’t as sure of what Bobby had just said. “What?” Dean asked, voice heavy with disbelief. 

“He’s —” 

Alex frowned. “He’s what?” She leaned closer as a clatter and a scuffle were her only answer before reeling back in realization. “Bobby?” Still there was no answer, and Alex scrambled out of the van. “Shit.” She heard Sam and Dean follow her as she took off towards the neighboring building. Her wings fluttered out behind her, and she pulled them in with a curse. She reached the metal ladder only a few minutes later and jumped onto the third rung, scaling it easily. 

She heard Sam and Dean follow, and before long she was rolling onto the roof, angel blade falling into her hands as she looked around. She crossed the roof in ten long strides, stopping beside the discarded equipment Bobby had taken with him. “Shit,” she cursed again, turning back to see the Winchester. 

Dean stopped beside her, gaze flickering to the gravel roof and stopping on the crushed cell phone. “They got him,” he confirmed, stating the obvious. 

“Dean, there are at least four Leviathans out there,” Sam started, looking over at the building across from them. 

Alex snorted. “Probably more.” 

“Probably more,” Sam repeated. “Point is, we don’t even know how to kill _one_.” 

“Well, it’d be quite the shock when we walk in through the front door, won’t it.” 

“What?” Alex looked over at Dean, confused, before following his gaze off of the roof. “Oh.” An Acme Industrial Cleaning van had just pulled into the parking lot, and a grin grew across her face as she connected the dots of Dean’s plan. “Oh.” She turned back to the hunter. “Yeah, I’m in.”

Sam and Dean turned back around, and Alex let her wings flare out in the open air, squaring herself for what they were about to do. Then she followed. 

 

 **“W** hat are we using?” Alex peered into the cleaning truck, gaze flitting across the equipment. Dean was crouching inside, while Alex and Sam were leaning against the open doors. 

“Here.” Dean pulled out a pressure sprayer and handed it to his brother. “Stuff’s got borax in it. Lots of it.” He pulled out a second one for himself before getting out of the van. 

Alex stepped back to give him room, frowning all the way. “What about me?” she challenged. 

“Sorry, only two. That’s why you get the machete.” Dean motioned towards the van, where the rest of their weapons lay. “We spray them, you slay ‘em, huh?” 

“Yeah,” Alex begrudgingly admitted, “probably a good call. Be right back.” She left the two Winchesters to discuss tactics and hurried across the parking lot to their van. Throwing open the door she pulled Dean’s dirty green duffle bag close. It unzipped easily, and she dug through to pull out an old, blood-stained machete. She grabbed the blade and jiggled it slightly, making sure the handle was attached tightly before closing the van doors and moving back towards the Winchester. 

“We’re going in through there.” Dean pointed to the door they had seen Edgar and Roman enter through less than an hour earlier. “Stay behind us for now. We get in, we get out. End of story, okay?”

“Yeah, sure. Lead the way.” 

Dean and Sam led the way into the building, and Alex followed. The door creaked open, and then she stepped inside, wings shuddering at the darkness of the air that pressed down upon her. She reluctantly flicked her grace out. “There’s a lot in through that door,” she whispered, taking a deep breath to steady her voice. “T-The air gets heavier when they’re there.”

Dean stopped by the door, and he and Sam locked eyes, mentally agreeing what to do. Then Dean threw open the door, and both hunters stepped through, the power wands raised. Alex immediately followed, wings raised high as she twisted her machete in her hand. There were four Leviathans in front of her, hands covering their red and steaming faces, cries of pain falling from their lips. Alex was on them in a second, machete sliding through the first one’s neck. 

She had her blade buried in the second one’s neck before the first head hit the ground. Dean and Sam had already moved on, and she spun around, wings pulling in tight and flaring back out as she made a tight turn before steadying herself. Two more heads fell to the ground to join the first. The fourth one — Edgar — looked up, flesh searing as he threw his head back in that worm-like snarl. Only a second later did his head slide away. 

Alex kicked it as hit the ground, watching as it bounced away. “That’s for my house, you son of a bitch,” she growled before a shout of her name had her running after Dean. 

Two more Leviathans were hissing in pain, and two quick blows dispatched them. Dean was off to her left, and Alex pulsed her grace out to locate Sam. She heard the clatter of a plastic jug on the concrete floor and slid to a stop to see Dick Roman cornering Sam by among the large metal shelves. Even from the back she could see the yellow, opaque smoke rising from his face. Two steps had her behind him, machete raised, and then a hand had her flying back. She hit the ground with a grunt, blade knocked from her hand. Then there were two gunshots. Alex rolled onto her back to see two bullet holes in Roman’s torso, and he spun around, cold eyes blazing with anger. Bobby Singer stood beside Alex, gun pointed at the Leviathan. “Hey!” Roman’s voice was cold and clear. “That’s mine.” 

Alex didn't see Dean until he was right beside the Leviathan, the chemical contents of his his plastic jug flying through the air and onto the Leviathan. Dick Roman roared in pain, falling to his knees in pain, and Dean turned to all of them. “Go! Go!” He took off and Sam followed his lead. 

Alex clambered to her feet, nudging Bobby after them. “Come on,” she hissed. “Go!” She left her weapon where it had fallen, letting her feet carry her as fast as possible. 

She slid to a stop to see that Bobby was following, but her gaze was immediately brought to Dick Roman, now back on his feet. “Would you stop it with that stuff?” he asked, wiping if from his face with his handkerchief. 

Alex tugged on Bobby’s jacket. “Leave him,” she begged. Another tug, and then Bobby was running alongside her. Footsteps told her Roman was following, and she turned the corner to see a large, muscular man standing in front of her. “Damn,” she cursed, and closed her eyes. 

Her grace pushed outwards in a burst of force, knocking the Leviathan off of his feet. Alex jumped over him, wings flared and feathers ruffled in fear. “Come on!” she yelled to the old hunter behind her, pushing open the back door. The minute Bobby was through she slammed it shut, hissing in agony as she welded the iron shut with her grace. Then she stumbled after the hunter. 

“Come on come on come on!” The Winchesters were already in the van, and as Alex and Bobby reached the van, she heard the door she had welded shut fly off of its hinges. Bobby pulled the van’s door open, shoving Alex ahead of him. She jumped into the van, holding her hands out to the older hunter. The minute their fingers locked she pulled him inside. 

“Go, go!” Bobby’s voice was sharp with fear, and Alex leaned past him as a shot was fired. It whistled past her skull and the angel flinched, yelling out a warning to get down as she flared her wings, positioning herself in front of the open van door as the car accelerated away. A second shot was fired, this one piercing the juncture between her shoulder and throat, and the angel gasped as she slid the van door shut before collapsing onto the floor of the back of the van. 

Her grace pulsed painfully as the bullet worked its way back out of her skin, and Alex could smell the blood in the air. “Dammit,” she rasped out, hand going up to feel the hole in her throat. “Son of a bitch got me good with that one.” She pried the bullet out of her skin and tossed it aside. “Good thing I was there,” she added, words directed at Bobby who was laying on his back beside her. “Damn bullet would have killed you if I hadn’t been protecting your ass.”

“You okay?” Dean didn’t look back at her, but Alex nodded all the same, muttering out something of a yes, eyes opening only enough to confirm that it was Dean speaking to her. She could feel her wound stitching itself back together, and she wiped the small amount of blood onto her jeans. “Son of a bitch,” Dean cursed. “I’m glad you got in. He almost took your fucking head off.” 

Alex managed to let out a weak chuckle, eyes closing again as the wound closed. She raised her knees to situate herself more comfortably, one arm coming to rest over her eyes. She felt her grace cease its work, and then she was healed. She tipped her head, however, as the feeling of blood was still in the air. 

“Hey, Bobby, your hat.” Sam held up Bobby’s baseball cap, and Alex quirked an eyebrow in confusion as the scent of blood persisted. There was no answer from the hunter, and Alex snapped open her eyes at Sam’s next words. “Oh God.” 

“Bobby.” Alex looked at the hunter, who was collapsed on the ground next to her, unmoving. “No.” That was where the blood was coming from. “No!” She rolled onto her feet and was at the hunter’s side in a second, feathers ruffled in terror at the sight of the small bullet hole in his temple. “No. No no no no no. Bobby?” 

The hunter didn’t respond, eyes closed and unresponsive, and the angel’s voice caught in her throat. 

“Bobby!”


	31. Death's Door

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter for a while: I'll be back on the 23rd with the next chapter. Hope you enjoy it!

**“B** obby!” 

“Alex!” 

Sam’s voice sounded right next to her ear, and the angel startled to see the hunter at her side. “Alex,” he repeated, this time much quieter, but just as urgent. “Is he alive?” 

“Is he dead?!” Dean yelled, panic seeping into his voice.

“Just drive, Dean!” 

Alex shook of the terror that gripped her bones, pushing her grace against the unconscious hunter. “N-No,” she whispered out, her fear melting slightly at the pulse of his heart against her grace. “He’s alive. F-For now.” 

“You got to talk to me, Sam!” 

“Dean!” Sam’s warm hand came to rest on Alex’s shoulder, shocking her back into reality. “Hospital. _Now._ ” The car accelerated, and Alex rocked into the youngest Winchester, drawing in a deep breath as she realized she had stopped breathing. The hand tightened its grip. “Hey hey hey. Focus. Do something. Y-You’re an angel, right?” 

For the briefest second Sam’s voice was heavy with fear, and for some reason hearing it helped steady the young angel. “Yeah,” she breathed out. “I’m an angel.” She tore her gaze from the prostrate Bobby to look into Sam’s wide hazel eyes. “I-I don’t know what to do.” The panic returned, hot and overwhelming. “I-I can barely heal a paper cut, much less his _brain_. W-What if I screw up? What if I _kill_ him, Sam?” 

Sam swallowed, and then his voice was back under control, but Alex could still see the distress that hid behind his eyes. “Do what you can, okay? Just . . . keep him alive. Please.” 

Alex watched as he crawled back over to Dean, nodding. “I will.” 

“We’re five minutes out.” Dean’s voice was distant as Alex leaned over Bobby, closing her eyes. She shakily pressed her grace into the hunter’s skin, letting it seep into the wound. The car squealed around a corner, jostling Alex, who let out a small squeak as her grace slipped. She felt for the bullet and carefully curled her grace around it. She could feel how firmly stuck it was among the brain, but let out a shaky sigh of relief to find the bullet still in one piece. She wound her grace through his body until only a small piece remained seated in her. There she stopped, not sure what else to do, mind blank with terror.

Alex turned her head when Sam was back at her side, and her eyes drifted past the hunter to rest on the devil, crouched behind him. “Please,” she begged, drawing his attention to her. “H-Help me, Luce. Tell me what to do.” 

Lucifer approached, kneeling at her side. His shoulder brushed against hers, but Alex felt nothing. After a second, however, she felt the devil’s grace shift from where it was twisted inside of hers. Then she felt it still, and the archangel shook his head. “There’s nothing I can do,” he told her quietly. “Not from where I am.” His grace curled tightly around hers, and for some reason, the icy chill of his grace against hers melted some of her fear. 

Suddenly the van door flew open and Alex looked up, eyes wide to see three people in black. Her wings flared out, ready to protect her unconscious friend until she recognized who they were. Sam pulled her away as the EMTs carefully removed Bobby from the van’s floor, leaving Alex to wonder when Dean had actually stopped the car.

Sam’s fingers wrapped around Alex’s wrist, and he helped her out of the back of the van before running after his brother and the EMTs. Alex followed as she felt her grace slip from the hunter’s body, the distance too great for her to hold on. 

“Move trauma two to bed seven when it’s clean.” A blonde nurse joined the three EMTs as they hurried into the hospital. As other doctors joined she explained, “Gunshot wound to the right frontal area, no exit wound found. Breathing spontaneous. Respiratory rate 18 and shallow. RST at 120. BP 90 over 60. GSC 5.”

Most of the terms were lost on Alex as she pushed past Dean. The on-call doctor nodded. “Push 80 grams of Mannitol over 30. Prep for intubation.” 

“Air entry clear for bases.” The nurse turned to stop Alex from pushing past her. “You need to stay back.” 

“Let’s get a central line in here now,” the doctor said, and Alex tried to slip past the nurse, but she was just as fast. 

Sam stopped behind her. “What’s going on in there?” he demanded. “Please just tell us —”

“Get them out of here,” the doctor ordered, not even looking up from his patient. 

The nurse nodded in acknowledgement. “Sorry,” she apologized to them. “You need to stay out of their way.” She held out her arms to keep Alex from passing her, and Sam reached out, placing a hand on the young angel’s shoulder to still her. 

“Please.” Alex looked up into the nurse’s eyes, her own eyes wide with fear. “Bobby — he’s like my father. Let me through. Let me help him.”

“Sorry, sweetie.” Sympathy glimmered in the nurse’s eyes, but her voice remained firm. “The best thing you can do is stay out of the way and let the doctors work. We need to get him stable.” 

“Okay,” Dean finally spoke. “When are you going to take the bullet out?” 

“If we can get the swelling down, if it’s in a place we can get to, if —”

“If he even lives that long,” Sam finished, and Alex trembled at his words. The nurse nodded and turned back into the trauma unit, pulling the white drapes closed behind her. Only the hand on her shoulder stopped Alex from following, her mind too blank with shock to even register the concept of pulling free. All she could do was stand there and listen to the doctors work. 

“Push 30 more of Mannitol over 10,” she heard the doctor order as the machines noises increased their intensity until they screamed. “CBC and ‘lytes. Bolus him with 500 saline.” 

“The vitals were stable two minutes ago,” the nurse insisted, and Alex heard the scuffle of tennis shoes against the linoleum floor as they scrambled. 

“Well, he’s crashing now.” 

Alex pushed her grace out through the curtains, trying to help, but even from where she stood she couldn’t fully grasp the hunter. She focused on reaching his racing heart, wrapping around it and slowing its rhythm to match hers. She felt the saline enter his body, and she slowly released her hold as it stabilized the old hunter. 

She hadn’t realized she had stumbled away until Sam was behind her, hand on her shoulder to keep her upright. “Let’s go sit down,” he said quietly, leading Alex away. He ignored her protests, silencing her with the promise, “The doctors are doing all they can. You no use rattled like this.” He stopped by the window ledge, leaning against it, and Alex did the same. “He’s going to be fine, Alex. I mean, they always say the first five minutes after something like this are the most critical. If he’s lived this long . . .” 

Sam trailed off, and Alex pulled herself up onto the ledge, pressing her back into the cold glass. She settled her grace within her skin, letting it rest even though it still thrummed with tension. “He’s stable,” she said after a few seconds “Heart rate and whatnot. I-I managed to stop the majority of the bleeding in the van.” Her voice cracked, but she made no attempt to steady it. She felt Sam’s hand cover one of hers, fingers slipping in between hers to give her hand a small squeeze of thanks. Alex curled her fingers around his as her eyes fell shut, grounding herself in his touch. 

 

 **T** ime seemed to stop, and Alex wasn’t sure how long it was before the doctor stepped out from behind the white drapes. Dean was immediately in front of him, shoulders squared in preparation for the worst. The doctor cleared his throat. “He’s, uh, he’s stable for the moment.” 

Dean looked over at Sam, face set in stone, but Alex could see the distress behind his eyes. Sam got up and walked over to his brother, and Alex reluctantly followed, heart skipping a beat at the sight of Bobby on the hospital bed, still unconscious with tubes coming from his mouth and a large white bandage around his head. “So there’s nothing else we can do?” Sam’s voice pulled her from her thoughts, and she looked desperately up at the doctor. 

He was shaking his head. “I’m sorry. We just have to wait. We’ll see if the swelling goes down.”

“How long?” Dean demanded. 

“Hard to say in cases like this.” 

“Well he’s lasted this long. That’s something, right?” 

“Well, yes. Listen — the bullet didn’t shatter. Only one hemisphere of the brain was injured. There are all positive things. But . . . I don’t want to give you false hope here.” The doctor shook his head to emphasize his words. “He’s far from out of the woods. Most of the time, cases like this . . .”

“They die,” Sam said bluntly, and Alex winced at the words. She reached out, taking Sam’s hand, pressing herself close into his solid warmth. 

The doctor didn’t agree or disagree. “Right now it comes down to him,” he promised. “I’ll keep you updated.” 

He walked away, and a smaller, skinnier man hurried up to them, clutching a clipboard against his chest. “Excuse me,” he began. “Sorry to interrupt. Is one of you Robert Singer’s next of kin?” 

Sam and Dean exchanged looks, and then Dean nodded. “Yeah, that would be me. What do you want?” 

“Can I talk to you?” The man motioned off to his left. “Right this way, uh . . .”

“Dean.” 

“Dean. Please, come with me.” The man led Dean Winchester away, and Alex watched them go before turning back to Bobby. The doctor had closed the curtains again, but Alex pushed her way past them to see the doctor and another nurse in conversation. She ignored them and went to stand by Bobby’s side. 

She stared down at the hunter, blinking back the tears that stung her eyes, forcing the rising, overwhelming pain back behind a solid wall. Then there was a hand on her shoulder, the doctor gently pulling her back. “You can’t be in here,” he told her. “He’s stable, and I promise I’ll let you know if anything changes.” When Alex still didn’t respond he said, “Why don’t you go wait outside? There’s a cafeteria just down the hall.” 

Alex numbly let him lead her away, afraid that if she opened her mouth the dam would break. Sam wasn’t there, and her wings trembled again. With a glance back at them she hurried down the hall and pushed her way out the front door. That’s where she froze. 

Dean was down by the street, standing in from of a large black SUV. Alex could hear what he was saying, but he was talking in a hushed voice with the man inside. A quick sweep of her grace told her exactly who it was. Dick Roman. Her grief and fear ignited into an all-consuming anger, and she stormed down the stairs, wings flared high, grace rolling and boiling inside of her until she stopped beside the Winchester. 

Dick Roman looked over at Alex. “Careful,” he warned. “She looks like she’s to explode.”

Alex rolled her shoulder back, letting her grace pulse outwards, and the windows on the car shattered as lightning flashed through the sky. She felt Dean flinch backwards in fear and surprise, but Roman steadily held her gaze. “If I ever see you again,” she growled, “I will make you wish you were dead, you understand me?” 

Roman’s gaze slid over to Dean. “You best keep your pet under control,” he told him. “It’d be unfortunate if someone . . . ate her.” With those words, the car drove away, leaving Alex fuming after them. In one last effort she snapped her grace out, blowing a hole in the back tire. It exploded with a loud bang, and the smallest amount of satisfaction trickled through the young angel at the sight of the car limping away.

Then Dean’s hand was at the collar of her jacket, spinning her around. “The hell was that?” he hissed.

“Fuck off, Dean.” Alex wrenched herself free. She took two steps back before turning tail and running across the street and into the woods, only slowing when she reached the asphalt path. There she took a deep breath and let it out, using the exhale to steady her shaking limbs. She walked down the path, flicking her grace out to see who was around. She could feel the people back at the hospital, but no one else was around her. 

She was alone.

The unforgiving asphalt hit her knees as she fell, her legs unable to support her any longer. Tears stung at her eyes, and the young angel clutched at her chest, gasping for breath as she finally broke, unable to hold back the grief and the pain any longer. Bobby could _die_. This wasn’t happening. Not to her. She fell forward, one hand planting against the ground to keep her upright; the rocks scraped at her delicate palm, but she couldn’t care less. “Please,” she gasped out, fingers clenching in her shirt over her heavy heart. “ _Please_.” 

She rocked back onto her knees, staring up at the sky. “Please. Gabriel. Ezekiel. _Someone_. Y-You — I need you. Gabe please. Bobby’s dying.” Her voice cracked, but she swallowed it back down, throat burning. “I-I — he can’t die. Not now. N-Not today. Not . . . not like this.” 

Sobs took her breath away, and Alex leaned forward again, fingers curling against the unrelenting ground. Her wings trembled and the young angel let them fall limply to her side, too tired to even keep them up. Tears fell to the ground, and she pulled in a deep, ragged breath before whispering, “Cas.” The broken prayer fell from her lips. “Castiel. Please, man. W-Where are you?” She looked up into the sky as a sudden jolt of anger rushed through her. “You said you’d always be there for me!” she yelled. “But you’re not.” The anger drained away, and she let her head fall, the weight of it too much for her to bear. “And it’s because of me. It’s _my_ fault. It’s all my fault.” 

She shifted, sliding her legs out from under her as she wiped the back of her hand across her tear-stained face. “It’s my fault if he dies,” she whispered to herself. Her voice caught in her throat, but she repeated herself. “It’s my fault if he dies.” Her head fell into her hands as words failed her, her only prayer her broken sobs.

She expected something to happen; the flutter of wings, a hand on her shoulder, anything to ease her suffering, but there was nothing. The young angel squeezed her eyes even tighter. “Gabriel. Where are you? I-I — I _saved_ your life. Y-You owe me. Ezekiel? Emmanuel? Koda?” Alex clenched her fists, focusing as hard as she possibly could. “Where are you?” 

There was a whisper, like the breeze through the trees. Too faint for Alex to make out, but it was there. It had to be there. She opened her eyes and looked around, sniffling to try and steady her breathing. “Zeke?” She shakily looked up, desperately searching the woods. “Is that you? I-I can’t understand you.” 

The whisper didn't return, and the angel trembled to find herself all alone. In one final, last ditch effort she looked up to the darkening sky. “God? I-I don’t know if you're out there. But you have to be. I _always_ believed you were. Please save him. _Please_.” Her heart twisted in her chest and she drew in a broken breath. “Father. Don’t leave me.” 

She crouched over the pavement again as the world spun, reaching down to steady herself against the ground. “Let me take in his place,” she whispered. “Let me die instead.” 

 

 **S** he wasn't sure how long she sat there; long enough for gloomy clouds to fill the sky and for the air to grow cold. She pulled her hands inside her jacket before reluctantly shifting her knees up into her chest, a low groan falling from her lips as her sore muscles moved. Her phone lay on the ground in front of her; the blinking blue light signaled the missed calls from Sam and Dean. It was only when her phone vibrated and the screen lit up with the words, “Where are you?” that the young angel finally moved. 

She pulled herself to her feet, her pain tightly shoved down and locked away inside of her. “Alright you son of a bitch,” she finally said, looking around. “Crowley. If you don’t get your ass up here I swear to God —”

“Touchy little thing, aren’t you?” The demon appeared in front of her, cocky amusement across his dark face. “That time of the month?” Alex stepped forward, anger fueled on by her grief, but he shook his head. “Ah ah. Careful there, kitten.” An angel blade appeared in his hands. “Keep your distance.” 

Alex stopped, shoulders falling in defeat. “You actually showed.” 

The King of Hell didn’t miss the brokenness of her tone. “Something the matter, love? Rocky and Bullwinkle causing you trouble again?” 

“Shut it.” Alex felt her eyes watering again, and she blinked hard. “I just . . .” She turned around and looked up at the dreary sky. “Why you? Out of _everyone_ I prayed to, everyone I called to, you are the _only_ one to give a damn.” She turned back to the demon. 

His face was scrunched with confusion. “You called other angels. Here. Bloody hell, woman, are you _trying_ to get me killed?” 

“You’ll be fine. Like I said, you’re the only one who showed.” Alex walked back over to the demon, wings pulling in tight. “Just . . . why?” 

Crowley seemed to relax with those words, his tension fading back into cocky disinterest. “You must be desperate to have called for me. Can’t say I wasn’t curious.” He looked around. “Where are those two meatheads anyways?” 

“Hospital.” Alex flicked a wing in its general direction. “They . . . Bobby’s dying.”

The demon actually looked surprised, eyebrows quirking in sudden interested. “Bobby Singer?” he repeated. “Really? You know, I’ve had my eye on his soul for some time now —” He cut off when Alex’s wings flared high, lightning lighting up the forest, and his gaze hardened. “What is it you want?” 

“I want you to save him!” Alex’s feathers ruffled out for only a seconds before she forced them to fall flat, grace retreating to inside her body. “ _Please_. I-I know I don’t have a soul, but I’ll do anything. Anything you ask. Just save him.”

The demon paused, letting Alex’s hopes rise before he shook his head. “You see, you know I can’t do that.”

“Crowley, please. I wouldn’t be here if I had any other choice.” Her wings fell open to reveal the soft under feathers, a sign full of submission and orison. 

“You know I can’t do that. I can’t have it getting out that I’m making deals with angels, especially after that little trick your mate played a few months back. Now,” he added after a moment’s thought, “if one of the Winchesters wanted to talk, I might be able reconsider.”

Alex shook her head. “There has to be something I can do. I’ll do anything, I swear. Just name it.” The angel curled her wings forward pleadingly. “I’ll do anything you want, go anywhere you take me; I won’t fight. I’ll tell the Winchesters I’m going back to heaven. They’ll never even know you were here. Just _please_ help me save him.”

“Why are you so willing to throw yourself at my feet?” Crowley countered. Alex didn’t answer, turning her head to hide her gaze, and the he demon sighed, letting Alex’s hopes rise before he shook his head. “Sorry, sweetheart. I can’t help you.” Seeing the broken look on the young angel’s face he added, “Don’t worry, kitten. If you play nicely maybe I’ll even let you come visit, hmm?” Then the demon was gone.

Alex picked up her phone and shoved it back into her pocket before reluctantly turning back down the asphalt path. As she exited the woods she pushed her grace towards the hospital, all senses trained on what lay inside. She could feel hundreds of heart beats and could hear the steady beeps of the monitors. She stopped at the edge of the street, grace carefully searching for two familiar souls when one of the monitors started to scream, drowning out everything else. 

Panic flooded through the young angel, and she jumped into the street, barely avoiding getting hit by an oncoming car, whose horn screamed in protest. She stumbled past and ran up the hospital stairs, throwing the doors open. Five steps carried her down the hall to the ER and she slid to a stop to see the two Winchesters standing in the corner. Sam looked up when he saw her, eyes wide with confusion, and Dean turned. “Alex?” 

Alex looked around, but she could feel Bobby in the other room, unconscious but stable. “I-I —” She looked up at Sam, and sob caught in her throat, but she swallowed it back down. “W-What’d I miss?” 

“Nothing.” Sam held out his hand and Alex approached, taking it and burying her head in his side. “Uh, the doctor had nothing but good news. The swelling’s gone down, they took him off sedation. He’s, uh, he’s breathing on his own now; they even took the tube out. I mean . . . it’s still not good, but doctor said best-case scenario.” 

Alex closed her eyes, a hopeful breath falling from her lips. “I’m glad he’s okay,” she murmured into his side before pulling away. “What now? Are they going to fix him?” She looked between Dean and Sam before asking, “What?” 

“They can’t do that yet,” Sam finally told her. “They, they’re not even going to _try_.”

“Why not?” Alex stepped away from Sam, glancing back towards her unconscious friend. “You said he’s getting better.” 

“The doctor doesn’t think it’s worth the risk,” Dean cut in harshly. His tone softened slightly as he added. “Not yet anyways. But he’s going to be fine.”

“Dean.”

“He is, Sam.” 

“Can I, uh, talk to you? Alone?”

Dean grunted his assent, and the two brothers walked away, leaving Alex by the window alone. She watched them stop a few meters off, heads bowed in conversation. However, Alex could still hear every word they said as if she was standing right beside them. “I know what you’re trying to do, Dean,” Sam started. 

Dean cut him off. “She’s a kid, Sam.” 

“She’s twenty two, Dean! And she’s been through just as much shit as you or me. I know you’re just trying to protect her, but we need to be honest about this.”

“No. We are _not_ going to have that conversation.” Dean shook his head, and his voice broke for only a second. “He’s not going to die.” 

“He might.” 

“Sam.”

“Dean, listen —” Sam’s voice grew sharp. “We might need to brace ourselves.” 

“Why?” 

“Because this is real.”

Dean stared at his brother, and when he spoke again, his voice was quiet. “What do you want to do? You want to hug and — and say we made it through when Dad died? We’ve been through enough.” He stalked past Sam and headed down the hall, shoulders squared and head low, leaving Sam to stare after him. 

The Winchester watched until his brother disappeared from sight before sitting down in the chair beside him. He leaned forward and clasped his hands together, staring into the ward where Bobby lay. After a second he shifted, pushing his thumb deep into his palm. 

Alex reluctantly approached, moving slowly as not to startle the older hunter. “I — I heard it all,” she admitted when Sam looked up. “I . . . I tried, Sam, I really did.” When the Winchester made a questioning noise she leaned forward, staring ahead. “I called for help. I just — why didn’t anyone answer me?” Her eyes watered and she wiped them away on her jacket sleeve. “The only one who even bothered to show up was Crowley —”

“You called _Crowley_?”

 “Yeah, cause I’m desperate! None of the angels answered and I don’t know why!”

Sam leaned forward on his elbows, mimicking Alex. “Yeah, well, angel’s are dicks,” he agreed.

Alex didn’t protest. “Yeah,” she admitted, voice distant as she sunk into her thoughts. “I guess they are.” With a shake of her head she pulled herself back into the real world. “I’m sorry. This — this is all my fault. I should have _known_. This is such a big thing and I-I didn’t even know —”

“Alex.”

“I still don’t remember this!” the angel continued, voice rising in fear and frustration. “I remember the damn Leviathans but I can’t even remember if he dies?” She looked up at Sam, eyes wide. “He’s like my dad, Sam. The best father I’ve ever had and now I might lose him forever.” She saw the look in the hunter’s eyes and looked away. “Sorry. I — you’ve known him longer. You’ve probably got a better claim to him being your dad than I do.” 

Sam didn’t respond, but Alex could feel his racing heart pounding against his chest. She risked a look up into his face to see the panic and fear he had kept hidden for so long run rampant, and quickly looked away, swallowing back her own tears. An arm came to rest over her shoulders, and Alex turned into the Winchester, burying herself into his chest. As the silence lengthened, Alex closed her eyes and fell back into her own thoughts. 

 

 **T** he sky had long grown dark by the time Alex moved again. Dean had returned a few hours earlier, bringing cafeteria food for the three of them, but Alex had refused her share, unable to even eat. She sat quietly, stone-still, watching the slow trickle nurses and doctors glide in and out of Bobby’s makeshift room. The monitor beeped steadily, a noise that was as comforting and mesmerizing as it was spine-chilling to the young angel. Everything else had long since faded into the distance, and her world had narrowed down to the only uninterrupted _beep beep beep_ and the bed where Bobby Singer lay. 

Two nurses hurriedly crossed Alex’s line of vision, jerking her out of her deep thoughts. “Keep the head of the bed up for transport,” the first instructed. “IV can run off the pump. Just run a TKVO. We’ll have to wait for respiratory.” 

Sam and Dean jumped to their feet, and Alex followed, wings curled forward in concern. “Wait wait wait wait.” Sam reached the nurses first. “What’s happening?” 

“He’s showing signs of responsiveness. We’re taking him up for surgery.” The nurse stopped and looked up at the three of them. “If you want to see him, I’d squeeze in there quick.” 

Alex looked up at Sam before darting into the makeshift room, eyes wide as she looked down at her friend. She carefully reached out with her grace as the Winchesters stopped beside her, Sam’s arm just barely brushing hers. 

For several long seconds they just stood there, and then the nurse stopped in front of them. “Sorry. We need to get moving.”

Sam nodded. “Right. Yeah.” Alex felt him glance at her and his brother, but her gaze never left Bobby. “Hey, um . . . Bobby,” he began, and Alex felt as Sam reached down to take the unconscious hunter’s hand. “Umm . .. hey. Just . . . thanks.” Sam’s voice cracked slightly, and he paused. “ For everything.” 

“All right.” The nurse moved to herd them back. “Please step back.” 

“Yeah.” Dean and Sam did so, Sam reluctantly letting go of Bobby. 

Alex hesitated, grace resting just outside her body, unsure what to do. Then Sam’s hand was on her shoulder, gently pulling her back. “Wait!” She struggled away to reach Bobby’s side, fingers clasping around Bobby’s hand as it started to move. She desperately pushed her grace again him, and the hunter’s eyes fluttered open. “Bobby?” 

“Wait wait wait. Stop.” Sam stopped the nurse, hurrying to stand by Alex’s side. “His eyes are open.” 

“Bobby?” 

The hunter looked around, and Sam put a hand on Bobby’s shoulder to steady him. Bobby reached up and Alex dropped his hand, watching as he pulled the face mask away, breathing ragged. Her wings curled forward when opened his mouth, but nothing but a gasp came out. 

“What — don’t talk.” Dean’s voice grew sharp with worry. “Don’t talk. A pen. I —” He scrambled towards the clipboard at the end of the bed, and then he was pushing past Sam to hold out the black pen. “Here here here.” 

Bobby took it, his hands shaking, and Alex leaned forward, grace pushing into the hunter’s brain to try and steady him. Her wings trembled as Bobby took her small hand in his. “W-What is it?” she asked as he pressed the tip of the marker into her palm. “Please. T-This can wait until you’re better, o-okay?” 

Bobby didn’t respond, but he dropped the pen, and Alex grabbed his hand before it let go of hers. He fell back against his bed, breathing labored, but he managed a small smile before opening his mouth. Alex leaned forward as he let out a single word, voice strained with effort. “Idjits.” 

His eyes closed and he fell back onto the pillow, and for a second Alex just stared. Then the monitors screamed, an ear-piercing wail of grief that shocked the angel to the bone. “No no no.” She squeezed Bobby’s hand tighter, grace desperately searching for any signs of life. “No.” His heart wasn’t moving, his brain not working. “No.” 

The angel dropped his hand as her world shattered with a deafening crack, crushing her lungs, and her feet carried her back into the wall. She felt the panic of the Winchesters and the tension as the room filled with doctors, all compounding, pushing her grace in further and further until she couldn’t take it. Grief drowned out everything, and her grace exploded outwards with a strangled sob.

The lights above their heads exploded, and the machine stopped its wail as it died. The entire room fell into darkness, and then hands were on them, forcefully leading her and the Winchesters out of the room. Alex stumbled into the darkened hall as doctors rushed past, blinded and confused by the black out, all of their emotions, their tension, building upon the terror and grief inside the young angel, forcing the air out of her lungs. Her wings were pinned against her back, muscles coiling tighter and tighter until she looked around, and her eyes locked with Sam’s. 

For the briefest of seconds their eyes met, and everything stopped. Then that coil broke, and Alex flared her wings outwards, thrusting them downwards as hard as she could. And then she was gone.


	32. Adventures in Babysitting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I didn't post this chapter earlier; I had a late night. So basically, I went with my friends to a Florida Georgia Line concert in Sioux Falls, and on the drive back to the Twin Cities our car broke down at 2am, so we spent 4 hours in the back of the car until a tow truck finally picked us up at 6. We were really tired and high off of lack of sleep and so I only just got back. 
> 
> So yeah ...

**August 12, 2005**

**St. John's Hospital, Minnesota**

_**T** he hospital room was bright and spotless, the walls a soft, comforting blue. The room, though small, was silent, save for the persistent beeping of the machines and the cheerful voice of a young child, who sat cross-legged on the hospital bed, a small hardcover book in her lap. One hand held the book open, while the other followed beneath the words as she sounded each one out. “W-What’s this word?” The young girl paused, turning her head to look over at the person laying in the bed beside her. “Mom?” _

_The older woman smiled, tiredly shifting her head. “Let me see, honey.” When the young girl eagerly held up the book and pointed to the word her smile widened ever so slightly. “ ‘Tweetle.’ ” She read the entire line out loud. “ ‘When tweetle beetles fight.’ ”_

_“Oh.” The book dropped back down into the girl’s lap, and she repeated after her mother before moving on to the next line, “it’s called a tweetle beetle b-battle.” She looked up once again. “Mommy what’s a tweetle?”_

_“I don’t know.” The woman gently reached up to put her fragile hand on the side her daughter’s face. “You know I love you, right, sweetheart?” The mother’s hand slipped downwards, fingers lifting the angel wing pendant around her daughter’s small neck._

_The girl let out a grin, wiggling away from her touch. “You always say that,” she giggled before pulling a face. Before her mother could respond, she pulled her book back into her lap. “Shh. I’m not done reading to you.” She put her small finger back on the page. “When tweetle beetles battle with . . . paddles in a puddle, they call it —”_

_She paused when the machine to her left started making a funny noise, the beeping speeding up until suddenly it was one long, drawn-out cry. “Mom?” The girl looked over at her mother, blinking in confusion. “Mommy?”_

_The doors burst open and the young girl jumped when doctors rushed in. Suddenly a man was scooping her up in his arms, pulling her away. “Dad!” The young girl let out a cry of protest as she was picked up. “What’s wrong with Mommy?”_

_“Be quiet, baby.” Her father carried her away, and the child looked over his shoulder, blue eyes wide._

_“Mommy?”_

 

**May 11, 2012**

**Sioux Falls, South Dakota**

**A** lex hit the ground with a grunt, black wings pulling in tight as she rolled. She ended up on her back, but she didn’t get up, staring blankly up into the sky as she fought to catch her breath. “Bobby.” The name fell from her lips, and her throat tightened. 

Where was she?

The young angel rolled over to see the charred, broken timbers all around her. Her hand went out, fingers closing around the blackened edges of a page on which she could just barely make out the unintelligible scrawling in familiar handwriting. She clutched the papers in her hands and rolled onto her back, wings falling open as she crinkled the scrap of paper in her hand. Home. Her wings had brought her home. 

The sky opened up with a crack of thunder, the heavens sharing in her grief. The rain bounced off of the mud and debris all around her, but Alex made no attempt to move. Within seconds she was soaked to the bone, her clothes plastered to her skin. Alex instinctively reached up, fingers closing around the two pendants on her necklace: the first was anti-possession charm Bobby had given her, and right beside it the angel wing from her mother. Alex gripped them tight, desperately searching for futile comfort. Lightning lit up the night sky, and thunder cracked overhead, but the angel only stared blankly ahead, her system shocked with grief. 

He was dead. Bobby Singer was dead.

Oh God. 

 

**S** he wasn’t sure how long she lay there. The rain came and went, but she didn’t move. The sun crawled across the sky, once, twice, maybe three times, but it barely registered. The young angel could only lay there, curled among the ruins of her home, wings wrapped tightly around her small, thin body. 

It was the rumble of a car engine that pulled her back towards reality. She heard the car stop a few feet off; it sounded large, she vaguely thought. Truck or SUV. The door opened, then it closed, and then finally there were footsteps. Alex curled her wings in tighter, not happy about the intrusion on her grief, but she couldn’t find it in her to move. 

The footsteps moved closer, and then a sharp, familiar voice was asking, “Hello? Anybody there?” Sheriff Jody Mills appeared around the corner, stopping dead in her tracks when her eyes fell on Alex. “Alex?” She jumped over a large fallen beam and in three steps was kneeling beside the young angel. “Oh my God. What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” She reached out to touch her before pulling back. “You’re soaked. How long have you been out here?” 

Alex reluctantly uncurled her wings, wincing at their stiffness. She didn’t speak until Jody Mills prodded her further, dragging the angel back into the real world. “What . . . day is it?” she eventually asked, voice dryly cracking with disuse. 

“Sunday.”

The young angel rolled onto her back, a loud and painful groan emanating from her throat. “Since . . . Wednesday.” Her eyes watered, and she focused on a cloud high in the sky to keep her calm and focused.

A gentle hand brushed wet hair out of her face, and Alex’s jaw quivered, a small tremor passing through her body and into her wings. The Sheriff’s voice grew soft. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?” When Alex didn’t answer, she sighed. “Alright, come on. On your feet.” Jody Mills helped the young angel into a sitting position. “Let’s get you inside, okay? When’s the last time you ate?” 

Alex shook her head. “T-Tuesday?” 

“Okay, yeah. Come on.” Jody Mills pulled Alex to her feet. “Let’s get something into you.” She led Alex over to her truck, grunting when Alex stumbled. “Get in the car.” 

Alex crawled into the front seat and fumbled for the seat belt before giving up. 

Jody Mills got into the driver’s seat, and the door closed behind her. Alex turned her head away, and after a second she felt hands brush against her stomach as they grasped her seat belt, deftly buckling it before pulling away. Jody started the car, and after a few minutes of silence she finally asked, “So. You want to tell me how you ended up here?”

Alex shook her head. “I . . . don’t remember,” she quietly admitted. “How . . . how did you find me?” She looked down at her hand to see the faint outline of the numbers Bobby had written on her hand, and she clenched that fist tight, wanting to preserve that ink forever.

“Neighbors within a one mile radius reported power outages, flickering lights, dead car batteries. Wasn’t hard to put two and two together, figure that whatever was causing it was right in the middle of Singer’s property. That’s where I found you. Is there someone I should call? Bobby?”

Alex curled up on her seat, shaking her head. “B-Bobby . . .” She trailed off. 

Jody Mills nodded. “You just stay quiet for now, okay? We’ll get you taken care of. There’ll be plenty of time for talking afterwards.” She steered the car onto the main road through the suburbs, and Alex leaned against the window to watch the houses go by. 

 

**T** wenty minutes later Alex was curled up on the red-plaid couch, a thick brown blanket around her body, and a bowl of chicken soup in her hands. Part of the angel craved something heartier, but another part of her was disgusted at even the idea of eating. She settled for staring down at the food, breathing in its warm and inviting scent, but even that couldn’t penetrate the cold chill settling over her.

“Eat up.” Jody Mills walked back into the room and sat down in the chair across from the young angel. “It’ll be cold soon.” 

Alex reluctantly raised the spoon to her lips, swallowing down the lukewarm liquid; it barely registered to her that even its taste turned bland and unappealing on her tongue. 

Satisfied, Sheriff Mills leaned back in her seat. “So. You want to tell me how you ended up here?”

The young angel set her bowl down on the table next to her and stared down her lap. “I . . . it’s Bobby.” Her voice trembled and fell into a hoarse whisper. “He’s . . . dead.”

The room fell silent and Alex sniffled, fingers playing with the hem of the blanket. Then Jody Mills was on the couch next to Alex, a gentle hand on her knee, and the young angel broke down, turning into the woman next to her. Jody Mills wrapped her arms around Alex, and Alex curled her wings around the both of them, pushing herself as close as possible. “I-I’m sorry,” she whispered, eyes squeezed shut. “I tried. I-I tried everything —”

“Shh.” Mills put a hand on Alex’s head, keeping her still. “It’s okay,” she promised, but Alex heard her voice shake. “It’s not your fault.” She held Alex for a few more seconds before shifting, but Alex didn’t let go. “I’m going to call the Winchesters, okay? Do they know you’re here?” 

Alex sullenly shook her head, but didn't say anything. She watched as Sheriff Mills got up and walked into the dining room, pulling out her cellphone. After a few seconds she cleared her throat. “Hey, Sam. It’s Jody. Jody Mills?” She cast a glance towards Alex, who had turned her attention to the bowl of soup beside her. “Yeah, I, uh, I just wanted to let you know I found Alex.” She listened for a second before nodding. “Yeah, don’t worry, she’s okay, but uh . . . she’s not talking much. I . . . I heard about Bobby.” There was a long pause, and Alex pushed her grace against her soup, watching the little waves rock against the spoon. Then she heard Mills sigh. “Okay, I’ll tell her.”

“I’m not going with them,” Alex mumbled sullenly, knowing what the Winchesters wanted.

Jody Mills sat down on the couch next to Alex. “Well, if you ever want to go to them, Sam said they’re at the cabin in Whitefish, okay? But listen. I got a spare bedroom upstairs, and you can stay here as long as you want, okay?”

“Thank you.”

 

**T** he sun was slowly moving through the sky, the shadows steadily creeping across the grass. Cars sped past them, but Alex paid them no attention, gaze completely focused on where the shadow of the hedge was stretching towards the black asphalt of the driveway. It inched closer with each passing minute until Alex was sure it was only seconds away from reaching the end of the grass.

“Alex.” Jody Mill’s voice shocked the young angel out of her thoughts. “Whatcha doing?” 

“Nothing.” Alex pulled the blanket tighter around her, gaze staring distantly out the window. “Same as last time you asked.”

“That was yesterday.” The couch dipped, and Alex reluctantly turned her head to look at the Sheriff, whose face was one of both gentleness and concern. “Listen. You’ve been here for almost a week. And I don’t think you’ve moved all day.” Alex blinked slightly, and Jody sighed. “Why don’t you go for a walk, hmm? Maybe getting up and moving will help a bit.”

“It’s not going to bring him back,” Alex muttered, resting her chin on the back of the couch as she turned back to the window.

“No, but it might make you feel better.” When Alex didn’t move, the Sheriff stood up off the couch. “Okay, that’s it. I didn’t want to do this, but I’m breaking out my mom voice —”

“Okay, okay.” Alex got up off of the couch, feathers ruffling in a brief spout of agitation at the very idea of being treated like a child. Then she let her voice fall back into a soft, distant cadence. “I’ll . . . go for a walk or something. I don’t know.” 

“Why don’t you walk down to Jefferson Park?” Jody suggested after a few second’s thought. “There’s always some little league softball game on Saturday.” Then she sighed. “Look, Alex, I know this is hard, but —”

“I’m fine.” Alex walked over to the door and pulled on her shoes. “If you need me, pray.” 

 

It was a week later. Alex shoved her hands in her pockets and kicked as at a stone, watching as it skittered down the sidewalk before bouncing out onto Minnesota Ave. Her wings flicked in disinterest as it disappeared from her sight, and she let out a long breath, feeling the warm burn of alcohol flare back up in her throat. The sky was dark, and she estimated it to be one, maybe two in the morning. Her wings fluttered as a car sped past, and she pulled them in tight. 

The headlights of another car behind her had her tensing, grace tightening around her angel blade, but she kept her head down. She only looked up when the car pulled up alongside of her, and the window rolled down. Then she looked away. 

“Where the hell have you been?” Sheriff Mills’ voice was sharp as she pulled the car to a stop, and Alex reluctantly stopped as well. “Do you know what time it is?” 

“What are you doing up?” the young angel retorted, immediately becoming defensive. “Isn’t it past your bedtime?” 

“Cute. Now answer the question.” 

“I was at the Crow Bar. I’m twenty-two; I’m allowed drink. And, before you ask, no. I’m not drunk.” With a sullen glare at the ground she added, “It takes way more than the bartender’s willing to serve to get me drunk.”

“Get in the car.” 

Alex rolled her eyes but did as she was asked, in no way willing to mess with that tone. “I’m not a child, Jody. I’m fine —”

“You know why I’m up? I got a emergency call, saying there was a fight at one of the local bars.” The sheriff’s voice was tight with anger, and Alex looked away. “Sound familiar?” 

“I didn’t start it.” The angel’s fists tightened as the memory replayed. “It’s just . . . that guy was insulting Bobby, okay? He said it was about time he died, t-that he —” Alex’s fist tightened, and then a gentle hand was on her shoulder. 

“I know what he said.” Then that hand was gone. “But you didn’t need to deck him.” 

The angel snorted in disagreement. “Just about served him right.” The car started moving again, and she settled down into the seat, head falling back against the headrest. “I’m sorry,” she finally murmured. “For, you know . . . being such a dick the past few days.” 

“No, I get it, you know? Trust me.” Jody Mills shot the angel a sympathetic look out of the corner of her eye. “I was the same way when my family died. So believe me when I tell you, the sooner you let go of that anger, the better, okay?” 

Alex shook her head. “I don’t want to let go,” she whispered, turning to look out the window. “If it goes, I’m afraid there’ll be nothing left. I don’t want to feel nothing.” She looked over at Jody Mills, eyes wide. “I’ve lost everything I loved. I’ve watched everyone I ever cared about die. The Winchesters, Bobby, my mom, my family.” 

Jody Mills turned the SUV onto their street. “You were there when your mom died?” 

“I was seven. I, uh, I don’t remember much apart from not knowing what was going on. She, uh, she had cancer. Stage four pancreatic. I was . . . sitting on her bed, reading _Fox in Socks_ , you know, the Dr. Seuss book? It was my favorite; I even kept it until I . . . ended up here. Uh, then she just, she just looked at me and said, ‘You know I love you, right, sweetheart?’ ” Alex’s voice caught in her throat, and she wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her jacket. “That was the last thing she ever said. S-She, uh, she died a few minutes later. That was the first time I experienced death.” 

“I’m sorry.” Jody Mills pulled the car into the driveway of her house, and both she and Alex got out. “Why don’t we get you up to bed?” she suggested when Alex almost stumbled over a crack in the driveway. “It’s been way too long since you’ve slept.” 

Alex didn’t protest, and let the sheriff lead her into the house and up the stairs. “I’ll take it from here,” she promised, stumbling into her room and closing the door. Then she collapsed on the bed with a groan. After several seconds she closed her eyes, focusing hard. “Please, Cas,” she begged, voice strained with desperation as she pulled her pillow close. “I don’t know where you are, but _please_. I need you so bad. I . . . I can’t do this alone.” 

The angel buried her face into her pillow, breathing in the foreign scents before pushing it away. “I don’t want to be alone,” she whispered, wings curling around her. “I need you. I need you to not be dead.”

 

**A** lex woke to the sound of her phone buzzing. She blindly felt around for it before rolling over to see who had texted her. It was Dean. _Figured out what those numbers meant,_ it read. _Field in Wisconsin. Want in?_

Alex unlocked her phone to respond before noticing she had received a second text, this one from Sam. _Found a possible case. Call me if you want to help. Could use you._

Alex dropped her phone with a resigned sigh, gaze focusing on the far wall. Several minutes passed before she reluctantly rolled over to answer their texts. _No thanks_ , they read. _Not interested._

She had barely just gotten up to go downstairs when her phone buzzed again. _How are you doing?_ That was Sam. _I haven’t heard from you in a while._

_I’m fine, Sam. I’m always fine._

She immediately regretted the message, and sure enough, three seconds later her phone rang, the nickname ‘Samson’ flashing across the screen. 

Alex tossed her phone on the bed and hurried downstairs. 

 

**I** t was nearly forty-eight hours later before she heard from either one of them again, and this time it was Dean. Alex was curled up on the couch once again, staring out the window when he called. She startled slightly, but ignored it, letting it ring. She watched curiously as the little blue light started to flash, letting her know the Winchester had left a voicemail. Only seconds later did the phone ring again. 

Alex turned her head back out the window until the noise stopped, eyes following a man and his dog slowly make their way up the street, the hound straining at his leash, tail wagging and head low. “Alex.” Alex turned at her name to see Jody Mills standing in the kitchen doorway. She was holding her phone. “Dean says to ‘pick the fuck up’ or he’s driving up here himself.”

Right on cue Alex’s phone rang, and with an exasperated roll of her eyes she answered. “Hello, Dean.” 

“Next time I call, you pick up, you hear me?” Dean’s voice was sharp with anger, but underneath Alex recognized the heavy tones of fear. 

Her wings twitched in slight concern, but she kept her voice steady. “What do you want?” 

“When’s the last time you heard from Sam?” 

“Sam?” Alex repeated, pausing to think. “He texted me two days ago. Something about a case he found. He called right after, but I didn’t pick up. Why do you ask?”

“How fast can you get down to Colby, Kansas?” 

“Dean.”

“He’s hunting a vetala, Pip. Two, actually. Idiot thought there was just one, but there never is. I haven’t heard from him in two days, so get your ass down here.” He must have heard her draw in a breath to protest, because he added, “I know you’re hurt. But you just got to shove all of that crap down, okay, because if you don’t, Bobby might not be the only person you lose, got it?” 

Alex let out a long breath. “I can be there by tonight,” she told him. “Text me if anything changes.” She snapped her phone shut and got up off of the couch. Jody Mills was no longer in the room, so Alex threw on her shoes and left. 

 

**June 2, 2012**

**Dodge City, Kansas**

**E** ight hours later the sky was dark, and Alex was in Dodge City. It had been only a few hours earlier that Dean had called to tell her that was where Sam was; he sounded frustrated, but had simply refused to tell her why. 

She glanced over at her phone, which lay on the seat beside her, before pulling the 1985 Crown Victoria she had retrieved from the Singer Salvage onto the curb. There were no new messages, and Alex dialed Dean’s number, waiting for him to pick up. He didn’t, and her message went straight to voicemail. The angel held back a frustrated noise, instead saying, “Dean. I’m in town. Call me.” She hung up and tossed her phone back onto the seat before closing her eyes. 

She could feel the town buzzing, quiet now that it was night, and she slowly pushed her grace ever-farther outwards, searching for those two familiar souls. The young angel let out a pent up breath when she finally felt them far on the other side of town; both were stressed, one from fear, the other trepidation. Alex’s grace vibrated before she could pinpoint the feelings to which Winchester, instead now curious by what else she felt. It was cold, foreign, painfully unnatural. Inhuman.

Vetala.

Alex pulled the car back into the street and sped off towards the source. 

It was an old warehouse only five or so blocks away, and as Alex pulled up alongside an old red sedan, she saw a young girl jump out and rush towards the warehouse door. The angel tipped her head in confusion, grace flicking out to confirm; she was human. Probably no more than fifteen years old. Was that a . . . silver knife?

The angel turned off her car and got out, walking over to the red sedan before flicking out her grace to unlock the trunk. The girl was out of sight, and she quickly took a peek inside, confusion and a hint of amusement trickling through her ever so briefly. That was the Winchester’s things. Why was there a kid in the car? A flash of annoyance and jealousy flashed through the angel before she pushed it away. There was a reason the Winchesters were working with a kid; it wasn’t her problem.

She turned her attention back to the warehouse, grace flicking out to feel the two creatures inside. Two vetala, several humans — three were definitely alive and well, although she thought she felt traces of a fourth, just barely holding on. She slammed the trunk closed and stalked up to the warehouse door, slipping inside. 

The first thing she heard was a scuffle, followed immediately by a cry. “Dad, hold on!” That had to be the girl — Alex was already annoyed by her, for some odd reason. “I got you —” She cut off with a scream, making Alex’s feathers ruffle.

“Krissy no!”

“Let her go,” a female voice growled,. “Or Little Miss Sunshine gets it.” 

“What were you thinking, bringing her here?” That new, male voice was full of distress, and Alex moved forward towards the source, feet silent on the concrete floor

“Now drop the knife!” 

“She’s just a child.” That was Dean. The voices were getting louder, and Alex stopped outside a pair of double metal doors, head tipping and grace flowing forward to confirm they were there. “Let her go.” 

“Yeah, I don’t think we’ll be letting anyone go.” 

“Daddy . . .”

“It’s okay, baby. Everything’s going to be fine—”

Alex shoved her grace forward, magnified tenfold by her anger, throwing the doors off of their hinges as she stalked inside. Lightning flashed through the sky, illuminating the room, and her wings flared high, the shadows of her wings flashing only briefly in the visible spectrum to make her entrance as dramatic as it could possibly be. Her gaze flickered around the room, across Sam and another man, both tied to metal chairs, across Dean, who stood closest to her, eyes wide, across the devil — who seemed to be thoroughly enraptured by a piece of string — and finally coming to rest on the three girls. A blonde beside a darker haired woman, whose arms were wrapped tightly around the young, scared girl — Krissy, Alex presumed. 

Alex strolled forward, eyes dark, the corner of her lip raised in the hint of a snarl. “Let the little girl go,” she commanded, letting her grace flow forward, letting it swirl and fill the entire room. 

The vetalas didn’t feel it, and the one holding Krissy laughed. “Oh, I don’t think so.” Her pupils contracted into two thin, vertical lines in an attempt at intimidation, but Alex didn't stop moving until she was in front of Dean. “Stay right there,” the creature warned, grip tightening on the young girl. 

Alex rolled back her shoulders. “What are you going to do?” she challenged. “Bite her? You think you can inflict anywhere near enough damage to kill her before I burn your eyes out?” She let her angel blade slip into her left hand. “Do you really want to mess with an angel of the Lord?” 

The second, blonde vetala shifted towards Alex, mouth bared as her fangs slid out, and in one quick motion Alex flicked her left arm across her body, sending her weapon flying to embed itself in the vetala’s chest. She missed the heart, but the creature still screamed, face lighting up as the angelic weapon burned away the darkness inside. She fell dead to the floor, and Alex stepped forward. 

What happened next happened fast. Krissy managed to spin away, exposing the other vetala, who was still reeling from the death of her sister. The next second she had recovered, fangs bared and eyes cold. And then Alex’s hand was across her face, willing all of her grace deep into the monster’s head, forcing her pain and anger and grief along with it until the vetala died with an agonizing scream, her body visibly charring as the angel’s grace rushed through every limb and fiber of her being. 

Then, Alex forced it all back inside, and it was all over. She stared down at the darkened, smoking body before turning back to face the other four humans. The young girl was closest, and Alex cocked an eyebrow, not speaking to anyone directly. “Who brought the kid?”

Krissy stubbornly held her gaze. “I had that under control,” she insisted vehemently, pulling a silver knife out of her right sleeve. “And I’m not a kid!” 

The angel blinked slowly before raising her hand to snap her fingers. Her grace flicked out on command, breaking the bindings that held Sam and the other man, presumably Krissy’s father. Then she bent down to retrieve her weapon from the first vetala, letting her grace clean the blade as she pulled it back up into her jacket sleeve. “Sam, Dean.” She calmly acknowledged each Winchester with a small nod. “Next time you decide to call me, don’t.” 

Without another glance at the Winchester’s shocked faces, she stalked away.


	33. Time After Time

**June 4, 2012**

**Sioux Falls, South Dakota**

**“Y** ou what?” Jody Mills stared down at the young angel, arms crossed. Her phone was gripped tightly in one hand, and Alex rolled her eyes.

The angle glanced towards her own phone, where the small blue light was earnestly flashing. She knew what it meant; Sam and Dean has left her at least a dozen texts and voicemails. It was painfully obvious they were concerned — or pissed. Alex hadn’t looked yet. “What?” Alex turned her gaze back to the Sheriff and crossed her own arms. “I told them to leave me alone.”

“That’s not the story I heard.”

Alex keep her face impassive. “What exactly did you hear?”

“That you burst into the warehouse and brutally slaughtered two monsters before you told the Winchesters to never call you again and stormed off.”

“That’s . . .” Alex shook her head, momentarily letting her anger get the better of her. “I didn’t ‘storm off,’ okay? Besides, why do you care? You're not my mom!”

“Well maybe if you started acting like a responsible adult, I wouldn’t have to pretend to be.” The sheriff’s eyes flashed, and then she shook her head, dropping her gaze. “You know what? You’re right; I’m not your mom. So this is coming from a friend, okay? Don’t be stupid enough to lose the only people you have left.”

Sheriff Mills left the room, and Alex sunk down the couch, wings drooping. She pulled her phone close, and after a few seconds unlocked it to see the messages left.

_5 voicemails._

_16 texts._

The majority of them were from Sam, and she scrolled through them, eyebrow quirked in hesitant amusement. Several of them were from last night, but a few were from only a few minutes ago. _Are you okay? Call me._ Alex scrolled further down. _Lucifer’s been talking. Can’t you come down here and tell him off?_ Her phone dinged, and she scrolled down to see the new message. _He says you’re only hurting yourself more by staying away._

Alex hastily typed out a reply, wings twitching in agitation. _Don’t talk to him! You’re not talking to him, right?_

The minute she sent that message, three more texts popped up. Sam’s immediate response of, _No. But it’s been harder to get rid of him since Bobby._

Two from Dean also popped up. _She speaks,_ and, _I see who the favorite is._

Guilt trickled through the young angel at those words, but she pushed it away. Her thumbs, however, did a small dance over the keyboard as she took the extra second to consider a reply. However, realizing that it might lead to more persistent questions she didn’t want to answer, Alex tossed her phone onto the pillow next to her. “Jody?” she called. “Want me to go get dinner?”

Jody Mills appeared in the doorway to the kitchen. “I’m making chicken,” she told the young angel. “Wash your hands and get in here. If you want to stay you better start earning your keep.”

Alex didn’t protest.

 

 **T** he wind whispered through the moonlit grass as Alex slid forward, grace angrily flicking back and forth in search of her prey. The abandoned barn in the middle of the field leaned precariously to one side, the wooden rafters caved in on one side. A man crouched inside, and even from where she stood Alex could hear the sound of flesh tearing under sharp teeth.

Her head swiveled as she heard footsteps approaching from the distance, and a frown flickered across her face as she felt Jody Mills hurrying towards her, calling her name. "Alex!" 

_"Alex!" Jody's sharp voice had the angel stopping in her tracks, one hand reaching for the door. "Where the hell do you think you're going?"_

_"Hunting." The angel unlocked the door and tugged it open. "I feel something out there. Don't wait up; I'll be back quickly."_

_A hand was on her shoulder, holding her back. "Oh no. There's no hunting while you live under this roof, understand? You want to hunt, you go with the Winchesters, but as long as you're here, you're benched."_

_Alex's wings flared out in indignation, and she felt Lucifer's grace twist and roll within her, feeding her anger. "Don't tell me what to do," she ordered, voice surprisingly cold and steady. "I'm going to take care of this." Before Mills could protest, she stalked out of the house._

"Alex!" 

The voice startled whatever was in the barn, and Alex felt it tense. She froze, hissing out a curse before launching herself forward, feet carrying her into the barn. The creature reared backwards, scrambling to its feet and baring its teeth in a bloody snarl.

Alex snapped her grace forwards, catching the man off guard and tossing him against the far wall. The barn creaked with the impact, and Alex let him fall to the ground, stunned. It was only when it got back to her feet that she lashed out again, fingers grasping its shirt and tugging it closer, angel blade slipping out just in time to be guided into the creature’s heart.

She let it fall to the ground, dead, lips curling into a disgusted sneer as it hit the dirt ground. “What is that?” Mills’ breathless voice came from the doorway, and Alex’s wings flicked curtly in acknowledgement.

“I don’t know,” she vocalized before pushing her grace against it to check. “Werewolf, probably. I don’t care.”

“And . . . that?”

Alex turned her attention to the torn and bloody pile of meat that lay in the corner. “Rabbit,” she confirmed. “Or a cat, maybe. Not human.”

“Let me get this straight.” The sheriff’s voice grew steadier as she caught her breath. “You ran out, in the middle of dinner, to kill a might-be werewolf that was eating a rabbit?”

“It’s not human,” Alex reiterated crossly. “Which means it’s my job to kill it.” Her grace stirred angrily at the questioning, and her lips curled into a snarl.

She felt Jody Mills walk closer, her own voice growing cross as well. “And all of this couldn’t have waited until after you did the dishes?” Alex opened her to respond, but Jody kept going. “Is this what the Winchesters teach you? To run blindly into danger?”

“It was a monster,” Alex snapped, turning to glare at the human. “I’m not blindly running, dammit! I’m a hunter. I’m just doing my job!” Her grace snapped out, and she heard the windows splinter.

Jody Mills took a small step back, face blank and eyes wide with shock. “Do your -- do your eyes normally do that?” she finally asked, voice sharp with nervousness.

Alex turned her head to look into the glass windows, slightly startled to see the irises of her eyes glowing a bright orange. “It’s an angel thing,” she got out through clenched teeth, angrily shoving Lucifer’s grace down until it stopped churning. The light died, and she let out a slow breath through her nose. “I won’t hurt you,” she promised, letting her weapon slide back up into her sleeve before holding out her hands non-threateningly.

“Never thought that you would.” Jody Mills sighed, but Alex could feel the tension and fear within, and the angel pulled her wings. She turned her attention to the body at the young angel’s feet. “Get back to the house,” Mills finally said. “I’ll call this one in.” When Alex nodded and moved towards the door, she added, “And for God’s sakes, do the dishes this time.”

 

 **I** t was two days later when footsteps sounded in the hall outside of Alex’s room. The angel’s head tipped as two solid knocks sounded on her closed door. “Pack up.” Sheriff Mills opened the door and peered inside, gaze flitting over the drawn blinds that kept out the afternoon sun. “We’re hitting the road.”

“E-Excuse me?” Alex cocked an eyebrow from where she was sprawled out on her stomach her bed. “What do you mean ‘hitting the road?’ ”

“We’re taking a road trip. I haven’t had a vacation in years and it sounded like a good idea.” Seeing that she didn’t quite have Alex’s support, Jody entered the room and sat down on the bed. “Come on,” she insisted, voice light. “It’ll be fun.”

“Yeah,” the angel scoffed. “Car rides and cheap motels. I’ve had enough of that, thanks.” Alex turned back to the book that lay in front of her. “I’ll just stay here.”

“No cheap motels. Promise. We’re going up to my cabin. There’s electricity, running water, peace and quiet. Best of all, there’s no witnesses in case you find another monster you want to recklessly kill. Come on.” The sheriff lost her bright tone, replacing it with a hint of authority, leaving Alex with no doubt that she didn’t actually have a say in the matter. “You’ll like it.”

With a sigh Alex rolled onto her side. “Fine,” she finally relented, “could be interesting. Plus a change of scenery could be nice.” She let out a long, drawn-out sigh. “When do we leave?”

“Car’s already packed. As soon as you get your things together we’re good to go.” Jody Mills stood up. “I’ll meet you out at the car.”

“I’ll be right down.” Once the door closed behind the sheriff Alex rolled onto her back, wings spreading out as she stared up at the ceiling. “Cas?” she asked, finally getting up off of the bed. “Change of plans. I’m, uh, going to Mills’ cabin. I don’t know the address but, uh, I’ll let you know.” She glanced at her duffle bag which sat against the far wall, still fully packed with her things. Castiel’s trench coat lay on top, and she walked over to it, kneeling to gently stuff it back inside. “Just hurry up.”

 

 **A** lex stared out the car window at the dark road ahead. They had been in the car for almost six hours, heading directly east. Finally Alex sighed, turning her head to look at Sheriff Mills. “We’re not going to your cabin, are we?”

“Nope.”

“You know I could kill this car — and you — with the snap of my fingers, right?”

“Don’t you dare.”

 

**Canton, Ohio**

**T** hey pulled up in front of an old, abandoned house sometime the next afternoon. Mills parked the car around the corner before getting out. “Alright, here we are.”

Alex sullenly followed, glancing at the house surrounded by a high, government-sanctioned chain link fence. “I thought you said this place would have electricity,” she muttered, moving towards the gate.

The sheriff reached out to stop her. “Whoa, not yet.” Jody circled around to the trunk. “We’ve got a few things to carry in.” She opened the hatchback to reveal several boxes of books and various items. “Mind giving me a hand?”

“That’s Bobby’s stuff.” Alex gingerly picked up a large cardboard box, swallowing back a lump in her throat at the sight. “Where . . . where did you get all of this?”

“Storage locker in town.” The sheriff grunted under the weight of a heavier box. “Come on. Let’s get this inside.” She led the way up to the front door of the house, knocking with the toe of her boots.

Only seconds later Sam Winchester unlocked the door, and Jody Mills pushed her way inside, leaving Alex to stare in confusion. “Hey!” Sam reached out to take the box, but Mills walked on past. “Let me — uh, let me help you with those.”

“No, I got these.” Her voice strained under the effort, but she kept walking. “You get the other twenty in my truck.”

Alex’s shoulders rolled back at the sight of the Winchester, gaze hardening. She followed, ignoring the Winchester, who was standing in front of Jody. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, I think Bobby might have a slight hoarding issue. I could barely get the door open on the storage locker. And, um, I’m pretty sure something’s alive in at least three of those boxes.”

She set her box down on the barren living room floor, and Alex followed suit, listening to Sam hurry back out to the trunk. “You didn’t tell me we were working with them,” she hissed at the sheriff, wings fluttering in frustration as she crossed her arms. “I don’t want anything to do with them, okay? I just . . . I can’t.”

“Well it looks like you’re just going to have to man up.” Jody put her hands on her hips, meeting Alex’s cold gaze. “Turns out Dean’s missing, so we had to call in some back up.” Authority lined her voice as she added, “So if you want to help your friend, you better sit down and get comfy.”

 

 **I** t took at least ten minutes, but by the end of it all of the boxes were piled against the far wall. Alex sat down among them, pawing through the nearest box, while Sam and Jody talked at the table. “Yeah,” Sam was saying. “See what you can find. I’ll start looking through . . . that.” He sat down next to Alex, who turned her head away. “How have you been?”

“I’m fine,” Alex said, a little more brusquely than she had intended to, so she softened her voice. “I’m always fine, Sam. Don’t worry about me.”

“I’m always going to worry about you.” Sam pulled a box close, quickly changing the topic. “Come on. Help me look for anything useful in here.”

“Sure. Uh . . . where’s Dean?” She frowned when Sam paused. “Something wrong?”

“You didn’t hear?”

“Hear? No. She doesn’t tell me much.” Alex jerked her thumb towards Sheriff Mills, who let out a wordless noise of protest. “Where’s Dean?”

“I don’t know. Something’s been mummifying people so we drove in.” He pointed to the wall above his head, where newspaper articles and autopsy photos had been taped. “Turns out the same thing happened back in 1994. We looked at some of the crime scene photos and found the same guy in both time periods. Uh, long story short Dean used a trick Devereaux taught him — you know about Frank, right? Crazy old guy who’s helping with the Leviathan thing? Yeah. So we found this guy from both years through the live video feeds from the security cameras. Dean chased him down the alley, and then he just . . . vanished. I don’t know where he went.”

“Mm.” Alex pulled a large book out of the box beside her. “Fifty bucks it’s a time-traveling werewolf.”

Sam snorted. “Yeah. You’re on.”

“But you guys have been okay otherwise?” Alex flipped through the book and tossed it aside. “Sorry I’ve been a bit . . . removed. I just . . .”

“No, no. I get it; you need space. Trust me, I know the feeling. Don’t worry about it.” He looked past Alex and dug his thumb into his palm, and Alex turned to see Lucifer behind her. Their eyes locked for only a second before he was gone. “Sorry. He’s —”

“He’s not causing any problems, right?” Alex kept her voice low so Mills wouldn’t hear. She pulled out another black binder, setting it on her lap.

“I’m managing.”

 

 **T** hey fell into silence, which was only broken half an hour later by Jody’s Mill’s loud exclamation. “Got it.” She looked up from the laptop and locked eyes with Sam, who hurried over to stand behind her. Alex didn’t move from where she sat, but tipped her head up slightly to try and see the computer screen. It appeared to be the secure website for the Federal Crime Database, on which was a black and white photo of what appeared to be a crime scene.

“Is that — is that a ring on his finger?” Sam pointed to the screen.

“Um . .” Jody Mills quickly zoomed in to check before leaning back in her chair and nodding. “Yeah.” Alex nodded in agreement with her statement, returning her gaze to the journal that lay in her lap.

“I know that symbol.” Sam hurried over to the far box and dropped to his knees, searching for a black binder. He opened it, and, with a soft, triumphant noise, returned to the table and lay it open. “It’s the infinite hourglass.”

Alex felt the confused gaze of Jody sweep over her before turning back to Sam. “And what’s that?”

“It’s the mark of Chronos,” Alex announced from where she sat, not even bothering to look up.

“Who?”

Sam glanced over at Sheriff Mills, who looked very much confused. “The god of Time,” he explained, and Alex grunted in agreement, wings flicking in annoyance as their conversation continued.

“That’s crazy.”

Sam shook his head. “The thing is, with the Old Gods, once upon a time they were — were just short of invincible. But they got a lot of their mojo from worshippers. From people feeding them.”

“These days not so much,” Mills finished.

“Right, they’re not what they used to be. But they make up for lack of power by being twice as pissed and a lot more hands on.”

Alex felt Mills looking at her, and she raised an eyebrow, knowing what she was thinking. “That’s not how us angels run,” she explained cooly. “The only external power source we have is in heaven, and it doesn’t run on belief. Besides, no one really worships angels either.”

“Okay. So why is this guy killing people?”

Alex shook her head, and Sam shrugged. “Dunno. Maybe he needs juice for his time travel? It doesn’t say in here. I’d have to look into it. Pip. Any thoughts?”

“No.”

“Okay.” Mills still sounded confused, but she turned to Sam. “So, how do we get Dean back? How do we even find this Chronos?”

“Best stab? We find a way to summon a god.” Sam got up and walked back over to the boxes, and Alex drew back her wings so he could pass. “There’s gotta be something in here.”

 

 **S** ix hours ticked by ever so slowly. Alex was lying on the floor as the sky grew dark, a thick book laying open across her breast, and a small journal held up above her head. Her wings lay spread out on either side of her, feathers cocooning her in like a thick blanket. Her eyelids began to droop, but she forced them back open with sheer willpower.

“Dammit.” “That’s it!” Sam and Jody Mills almost simultaneously voiced their discoveries, and Alex dropped the journal onto her face with a loud groan.

“Okay, your’s sounds better,” Sam said, turning from where he was seated at the table with his laptop. “You first.”

Mills nodded, shifting the large book that lay on her lap. “It says here that people could summon Chronos to ‘to compel him to tell them their future.’ ”

“And I’ve got the spell to do it right here.”

Alex snorted in amusement, but Mills just tipped her head. “So why the ‘dammit?’ ”

“Cause calling Chronos isn’t the problem. It’s making sure we summon him when Dean is right there. Literally with his hands on the guy, so he can surf back.”

“That’s not automatic?”

“No, it’s more like we need to get the time right on their end to the exact second.”

“Or we get an angry god and no big brother?”

“And he’s trapped there forever,” Sam finished with an nod.

“Dammit,” Alex agreed, pushing the book off of her chest. “There’s no, uh, binding spell or anything? Get him to do our bidding?”

“No, and as far as we know he can’t just zap back and forth. I mean, he’s killing people to juice up. Which means six more deaths just for him to go back in time and get him.”

Alex grunted in acknowledgement at how unrealistic that plan sounded. “Great.”

“ ‘Fine you ass. You win for once.’ ” Jody’s voice had both Sam and Alex looking up in confusion. In her hands was a bottle of Johnnie Walker in her hands, an old piece of parchment wrapped around the label. Mills finished reading, “ ‘Enjoy, R,’ ” before looking back up. “Who’s R?”

“Rufus,” Sam explained. “A family friend.”

“You met him,” Alex added, putting her head back down on the floor, turning so she could rest her feet against the wall. “Uh, last fall?”

“Ah, right.”

“Wonder what they were betting over,” Sam mused, his voice soft and distant.

Alex shrugged, knowing the bottle in question well from Bobby’s stories. “Uh, a dementor in Michigan, or something like that. I don’t know. He said he was saving it for a special occasion.”

“Huh. Well, Rufus sure was a sore loser.”

“Yeah.” Alex heard the smile in Sam’s voice without having to look up, and she rolled onto her feet, approaching the table and sitting down.

“It’s weird, huh?” Mills was still staring at the bottle. “It’s like their life is a big puzzle. You just keep finding pieces of it scattered all over the place.” After a small pause she added, “We should drink this. He’d want us to.” She looked over at Alex and Sam. “Am I wrong?”

“It’d be rude not to.”

 

 **S** heriff Mills left around two in the morning to get coffee and some bagels, leaving Alex and Sam sitting at the table. Sam was dead on his feet, head drifting slowly downwards. Alex slowly reached out, pulling a book away so he could rest his forehead against the table.

“I haven’t seen you in a while.” Suddenly Lucifer materialized against the far wall, arms crossed lazily over his chest.

“Shh,” Alex chastised, glancing down at Sam. “Let him sleep.”

“He can ignore us.” The archangel’s eyes flashed with a sudden burst of anger, and he pushed himself off of the wall. “You had me worried when you disappeared after Singer’s death,” he added, voice growing sharp.

“It’s none of your business where I go,” the young angel hissed back, shooting a glance at the nearly-unconscious Winchester.

“It’s my business when you are mine.” The archangel put a hand on the back of Alex’s chair as he leaned down in front of her, cold blue flames dancing in his eyes. Alex found herself holding her breath as his face stopped only inches from hers. “You disappeared and were gone for almost three weeks. I could _feel_ your distress, but there was nothing I could do. No matter how much I hinted to Sam, no matter how much fear I put into him about your safety, _nothing_ I did gave me answers.” His hands tightened, fingernails scratching on the wood beside her ear, and the angel swallowed nervously, leaning back as far as she could. “You’ve already proved to be incapable of taking care of yourself, so do you see why I was worried?”

Alex had opened her mouth to snap, but at his last word her reply died in her throat. _Worried?_ She hadn’t been expecting that.

A low sound rumbled through the archangel’s chest, and then he pulled away, reining the cold anger back in. “You know,” he added, tone forcibly light. “I’m looking forward to getting back into your head. It’s better than Sam’s. Less broken, more . . . familiar.” A cold smile had his lips twitching upwards for a mere second before it disappeared.

Alex crossed her arms. “I’m not letting you back in,” she spat defensively. “I’m not yours, Luce. I’ve made my choice, and I chose Castiel.”

The devil just chuckled. “We’ll see about that. Just you wait; you’ll let me in soon enough.” Then he was gone, and Alex sank deeper into her chair as the front door clicked open.

Jody Mills walked into the room, eyes falling on Sam. “You are toast.” Sam raised his head with a start, drearily focusing his eyes on the sheriff as his mind slowly processed her return. Mills set the coffee and brown paper bag of bagels down on the table. “I’ll keep pushing,” she told him. “You go get some shut-eye.”

Sam reluctantly forced himself to sit up, reaching for one of the coffee cups. “Uh, that’s okay. I can, uh —”

Jody Mills immediately took the cup away from him. “Do I have to use my mom voice?” she warned.

Alex raised her eyebrows. “Better go to bed,” she suggested. “She’s got a scary mom voice.” She watched as the Sheriff put her hands on her hips, and she nudged Sam under the table. Sam pulled himself to his feet, and Alex watched as he slowly made his way up the stairs. “Thanks for that,” she finally said when Sam was out of sight. “No matter how right I am, he’s just never going to go to bed when I tell him to.” She added after a moment’s pause, “It’s about as difficult as getting a drunken Winchester to bed. They’re surprisingly stubborn. And heavy.”

“You’ve done that, huh?”

The young angel shrugged. “They would do the same for me.” She took her own coffee from the table before fishing out a bagel. “If you’re tired too, you can go get a hotel room or something. I’ll stay here and keep an eye on Sam.”

To her faint surprise Jody Mills shook her head. “I’ve stayed up longer for less,” she said, sitting down at the table across from Alex. “Find anything while I was out?”

“Yeah. We found how to summon Chronos from a specific point in time, instead of just generally. It’s pretty simple. Just write the exact time and date on a piece of paper with the summoner’s blood and burn it along with the spell. Of course,we still don’t know where — er, _when_ Dean is, so . . .”

As if on cue footsteps thundered down the stairs, and Sam ran into the living room. Jody Mills got to her feet, voice growing sharp. “Alright, you asked for it young man —”

Sam thrust his hand out, a yellowed sheet of paper hanging from his grasp.

Jody cut off, reaching out to take the note from Sam. “ ‘Sammy,’ ” she read, “ ‘turns out Snider is Chronos.’ Wait.” She looked up in surprise. “Is this from Dean?”

Alex got to her feet and hurried over to Jody Mills to get a glance at the paper. “That definitely looks like his handwriting,” she agreed. “How —”

“Just read.”

“ ‘I rode him to 1944,’ ” Mills continued. “ ‘Am working with Elliot Ness — yes, that one.”

“Wait, Elliot Ness?” Alex looked up at Sam. “As in the Untouchables Elliot Ness. No way.”

“Yeah way.” Sam grinned back before turning to the Sheriff. “Keep reading,” he prompted.

“ ‘Tracked down Chronos. He’s banging some chick named Lila Taylor, and we got a weapon. We’re going after him. Take care of yourself, Sam.” She looked up in confusion, and Sam pointed to the right hand corner. “Look at the top.”

“November 5th, ’44.”

“So now we know the exact date Dean had his hands on Chronos.”

“Now all we need is the exact time,” Alex finished with a nod. Her wings twitched in curiosity as she asked, “But how are we going to figure that out?”

“Well, I’m hoping,” Sam took back the letter and quickly folded it, “that we can ask someone who was there.” He moved towards the table, but Alex stepped in front of him.

Jody Mills seemed to agree with what she was thinking. “Uh, no. You’re going to go to bed.” When Sam didn’t move she prompted, “Go on. Me and Alex have got this.”

The Winchester hesitated, but then he nodded in defeat. “Yeah. Good idea.”

He walked away, and Alex returned to her chair with a thump, wings folding in as she reached for her laptop. “Alright. Let’s see if we can hunt down a Lila Taylor from 1944.”

 

 **T** he sun was high in the sky before Sam Winchester came back downstairs. Alex was curled up among the stack of Bobby’s things, head resting on a book and wings curled tightly around her as she stared blankly at an open book, only to be pulled out of her thoughts by heavy footsteps on the wooden stairs. Displaced, she looked around, eyes locking with Sam’s before she let her shoulders fall in recognition. “Morning,” she yawned, sitting up.

“Hey. How’d you sleep?”

“I didn’t.” Alex got to her feet with a small grunt. “I prefer a real bed.”

The hunter frowned. “You could have slept upstairs. Dean’s got his sleeping bag up there.”

“Mm.” Alex couldn’t deny that idea sounded appealing, and part of her wished she had checked up there last night. However, she just shrugged it off. “What’s done is done. Oh, we, uh — Mills found the Lila Taylor you’re looking for. She actually lives about an hour north from here, so that’s cool. If we leave in the next half hour we can get there by one.”

“Actually, I was thinking maybe you could stay here.” Sam dug an old bagel out of the brown paper bag. “We’re going to need ingredients for the spell, and the sooner we can get all that together the better, right?”

Alex nodded. “Makes sense. Do you have a list of stuff we need?”

“Yeah.” Sam sat down at the table and flipped open a small brown book to a designated page. “There. We have the bowls and candles.”

Alex leaned over Sam’s shoulder to look at the spell. Then she let out an amused noise. “You said this is the Roman god, right?” When Sam made a noise of confirmation, she added, “Then why’s the spell in Greek?” She pointed to the array of Greek letters, most of which she could easily translate. “Although I guess it doesn’t matter what language it’s in as long as it works.”

“Yeah. I think Chronos with an ‘h’ is found in both Greek and Roman mythology. He’s the time god. Not the Titan, remember?”

“Yeah.” Alex tiredly leaned her cheek against Sam’s head, wings folding around the both of them as she continued to read through the spell. “Okay. I think I can find all that pretty easily.” She pulled away and hurried over to the boxes to find a blank piece of paper. “Oh, and Mills went to go get gas. She’ll be back in five minutes.” She ripped a page out of a blank notebook and scrawled down the list of ingredients she would need. “Should I take your car?”

“Yeah,” Sam nodded. “Uh, it’s out back. We’ll take the truck.”

“Thanks.” Alex walked over to the corner of the room before pulling on a black and white button-down out of her bag. She quickly buttoned it up before folding the scrap of paper and tucking it away. “I’ll be back, I guess. Good luck.”

“Same to you.”

 

 **F** ifty minutes later Alex was parked around back of a health-food mart, shoving a credit card back into her wallet. On the passenger seat sat the plastic bag that contained the herbs necessary for the spell. The ingredients had been fairly standard and easy to come by — her next stop was to check out the antique stores further towards downtown, but the angel didn't foresee any problems to come.

A flutter of wings immediately proved her wrong, and she tightened her fingers on her wallet as her grace told it who it was. “Go away.”

“Well that’s not very nice.”

Alex looked up, cold anger dancing in her eyes. “Gabriel.” Her feathers puffed out, crowding the small car as she repeated herself. “Go away.”

The archangel looked thoroughly put out. “You know if you just want to talk it out —”

“I don’t _want_ to talk to you,” the young angel insisted, turning to start the car. A warm hand reached out and stopped her, fingers closing around her wrist. She jerked her hand away with a snarl. “Don’t touch me,” she hissed.

Gabriel pulled away, a frown darkening his face. “Alex. What’s wrong?”

“ ‘What’s wrong?’ You show up four weeks after I called for you and that’s all that you have to say?” Tears stung her eyes, and Alex clenched her jaw, glaring at where her fingers tightly held the steering wheel.”You’re lucky I don’t kill you!”

The archangel didn’t immediately respond. “How’s Singer?”

“He’s dead.” Alex threw open the car door and stormed out, letting her wings flare out in grief and fury at the angel behind her. She made it ten feet before Gabriel was in front of her, large, golden wings pulling in as he touched down. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be?” she snapped.

“I’m sorry.”

“Save it.”

Alex tried to push her way past the archangel, but he held firm, moving to block her path. “Alex, listen to me.” He put a hand over her mouth when Alex opened it to protest, and she glared up at him, yanking her head away. The archangel’s hand dropped back down to his side. “I know how you’re feeling, okay?” His golden wings curled around the both of them, shutting out the outside world. Grace pushed gently against hers, warm with sympathy and comfort, and for a brief moment Alex longed to let it in, for it to surround her so the constant loneliness scratching at her soul would finally cease.

She immediately forced the feeling away, shoulders rolling back as she steeled herself. “Where were you?” the young angel lashed out, wings flaring out and pushing angrily against the archangel’s. They held her in tight. “Where the hell were you? I saved your life, and this is how you repay me?”

“Alex, calm down.”

“No, don’t tell me to calm down.” The young angel’s voice cracked. “I lost him, Gabriel. It was my job to protect him. My job to keep them safe. I can’t even do that. I prayed. I prayed to everyone, and no one listened. No one came. I was all alone.”

The archangel didn’t speak for several seconds, but when he did his voice was soft. “I’m here now.”

Anger flashed through Alex at his pathetic response. “I don’t care, Gabriel!” She thrust her wings outwards again, stumbling free. “You weren’t here when I needed you. That’s what’s important. Just . . . why?”

“Why didn’t I come?”

“Why didn’t _anyone_ come?” Alex’s wings trembled, and her knees shook. She took a step back to lean against the side of the old, rusted car. “I . . . I can’t do this alone.”

Gabriel moved up in front of her, wings hesitantly folding forward. “I’m sorry, kiddo. I got here as soon as I could.” He managed to sound genuine and held out his hand, palm face up. “Come on. You’re right; you shouldn’t be alone.” He ignored the huff of sullen amusement that followed. “Grief doesn’t do us angels well. Just look what happened after Father left. You need someone to help you through.”

Alex pushed his hand away, rejecting his offer. “I’m not alone,” she snapped bluntly. “I’ve got the Winchesters. And Lucifer. Devil or not, at least he’s there for me when I need him. So just go away. I don’t want to see you ever again, understand?” She opened the door then paused, turning to glare back at the archangel, not missing the hurt in his whiskey-gold eyes that only seemed to fuel her on. “You know, I don’t even know why I bothered to save you in the first place.” With that she got into the car, slamming the door. Gabriel didn’t follow, and she turned the car over, tires squealing as she sped away.

 

 **S** am and Sheriff Mills didn't get back until almost six o’clock, bringing dinner with them. Alex was curled up in the corner of the room, and, having dragged Sam’s sleeping bag down the stairs, was curled up inside its warmth, eyes fixated on the hurried scrawling of Bobby’s journal of Asiatic creatures. When the door opened she looked up, pulling the hem of Sam’s blue and black plaid down past her mouth. “You’re back.”

Upon seeing her, concern immediately flashed across the young hunter’s face, and he set their meal down on the table. “Hey. You okay?”

Alex shrugged, turning the book’s page. “I’ll live.” Her gaze drifted over to Jody Mills for a seconds before returning to Sam. “I got everything we need. It’s there on the table. Did you find out what you needed learn?”

“11:34 pm. Lila Taylor said that was when the clocks stopped. And . . .” Sam hesitated. “When Chronos choked Dean to death.”

Alex hummed in acknowledgment before turning back to the book. She heard Sheriff Mills move closer to her, and then Sam shifted to stop her. “She’s, uh, she’s fine.” Sam kept his voice quiet, and somewhere in the back of her mind Alex wondered if they knew she could clearly hear them. “Just let her be. She gets like this sometimes, — quiet and a little out of it — uh, ever since Castiel died. He was her —”

“Yeah, I know who he was.” Jody Mills stepped back. “And I know.” Her voice dropped low. “I found her lying on the ground at Bobby’s. She said she hadn’t moved from there in five days. She sat on my couch for over a week. Didn’t even talk.” She raised her voice. “Alex. Hungry?”

Alex shrugged, folding the book up and shifting her legs so they lay flat. She raised her head to peer onto the table. “What did you get?” She reluctantly slid out of the sleeping bag and crossed the room to stand in front of the Winchester. “I guess I’m a little hungry.” She pulled out a paper-wrapped taco while Sam dug through the plastic bag of spell ingredients. “It’s all there,” she promised. “It, uh, took me a while to find an hourglass of sufficient size, but it’s there.”

“Good job.” Sam started mixing the spell while Alex turned her attention to her food, wolfing it down in famished bites, not realizing how hungry she had been until then. She could sense Jody Mills watching her, and her wings twitched uncomfortably, but that was all the attention she paid her until the older woman spoke.

“I didn’t know angels ate.”

“They do in heaven,” Alex swallowed down a mouthful of beef and corn shell before pulling a long piece of pale green lettuce off of the top. “Apparently the food down here tastes too . . . busy. I enjoy it. And I still get hungry. I don’t know if that’s normal, or if it will ever go away.” She put the vegetable in her mouth before adding, “I have noticed I don’t _need_ to eat as frequently, though. I’m not sure why.”

“Here.” Sam held out the wooden bowl in which sat the large glass hourglass. “Crush this.”

Alex glanced at Mills, still holding her food, and the sheriff circled past her to do what the Winchester said. She covered it with a piece of cloth and slammed the butt of her handgun down onto it, and the sound of breaking glass echoed the small room.

The two of them started mixing together the spell, and Alex watched in silence as Sam pulled his silver knife out of his pocket before her gaze fell to the blank paper below. With a pained grunt the hunter drew the blade across his his palm; Alex’s wings flicked in distaste as the tang of blood reached her nose. However, she moved closer, watching as he drew out the words _Nov 5 1944_ on one side, waiting a few seconds for it to dry before flipping it over and scrawling 11:34 pm.

He pulled back, finished, and Alex, done with her first taco, reached out, placing her palm in Sam’s bloodied one. She let her grace flow into the shallow wound, stitching it back up. Once it had healed, she cleaned the blood from her own hand and retrieved her second taco, grunting in acknowledgment when Sam voiced his thanks.

As soon as Mills had added the last ingredient, Sam set the paper on the bowl. The four candles were placed at equal distances around the bowl's circumference, and Jody Mills reached for the matches, pausing to look over at Alex, who was slowly but surely chewing on her food. “You gonna just stand there and watch?” she asked dryly.

Alex snapped her fingers, and the candles burst with flames, quickly dying to a reasonable level. She continued chewing as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened, steadily holding the sheriff’s stare.

Sam looked over at Jody. “When I start reading, light a match and drop it in the bowl, okay?” Then he looked over at Alex. “You ready?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” Alex took another bite out of her half-eaten food, not missing the way the hunter’s gaze dropped to it. “Go ahead,” she added, “I’m almost done.”

Sam pulled the leather-bound book closer. “ _Ω Κρόνε, παρακαλούμεν σε, θεσπίζειν ημίν χρόνον τον μέλλοντα._ ”

 _O Chronos, we beseech thee, to designate our time as future._ Jody Mills struck a match and dropped it into the bowl, and Alex watched as the dried herbs and paper caught up in flames. Warmth emanated from the bowl, a warmth not created just by the fire, but a warmth that brushed against her grace, spindles stretching everywhere it could reach. The angel gently pushed them away, surprised the spell’s energy was so soft.

Then the room lit up with a burning red light, and Alex tossed her food away, angel blade slipping into her hands as two men appeared. The one closest to her was clearly Dean — the one who stood behind him, arms wrapped around his neck, was the man from the photos. He spun around as Dean stumbled away, landing at Alex’s feet, who backpedaled as not to be knocked over. She heard Jody Mills yell, “Dean!”

“Hey!” Sam rushed at Chronos, fist swinging down at him. The deity however, spun around, grabbing Sam’s fist and shoving backwards, sending Sam flying back into the pile of boxes and books.

With Sam dazed, the god spun around, glaring down at Dean and Jody, who was kneeling beside him. “You!” he spat. “You destroyed everything!”

Alex slid forward, angel blade glinting in the setting sunlight, and the god shifted, fists balling and eyes blazing.

“Hey, Chronos!” Sam was back on his feet, and Chronos spun around, mouth open, but whatever he was about to say died in his throat as Alex sensed something puncture his heart. Sam shoved whatever it was deeper into the organ as the deity gasped for breath. “Is that the best you got?”

Chronos fell to his knees, and Alex finally got a good look at what was there; a wooden stake.

The god gasped again, red and white light flowing through his veins and licking their way up his neck. “You want to know your future?” he finally said, glaring up at Sam. A convulsion passed through body, and his hands gripped at the wooden floorboards. “I know your future.” He twisted his head to look back at Dean. “It’s covered in thick, black ooze.” He punctuated each word carefully and looked back up at Sam. “It’s everywhere. They’re everywhere.” He let out a wet laugh, eyes falling on the young angel as the light began to fade. “Enjoy oblivion.”

Alex watched as the god collapsed, the last spark of life leaving his body. She glanced over at Sam before turning to walk over to Dean, who had staggered to his feet. “Dean.”

“Pip?” Dean blinked in surprise. “What are you doing here?”

“Long story.” Alex let her angel blade slide back up into her sleeve. “How are you feeling? You aren’t hurt, are you?”

“Yeah, no -- I’m fine.” Dean rubbed his left shoulder, but stubbornly shook his head. “I’m fine,” he repeated. “I’m glad you’re here. I, uh, suppose it’s too much to hope that you’ll be sticking around, huh?”

“We should get this body out of here.” Alex suddenly decided and turned away, motioning down to Chronos. “What are we thinking? Maybe just dropping him off in a field? We could leave him in the basement, I guess.”

She felt the Winchesters exchange looks, but they thankfully didn’t press her.

 

 **A** lex watched as Sam rolled up his sleeping bag, taking a break from packing away the last of Bobby’s things. Dean and the sheriff were loading them back into Mill’s truck, leaving the angel and Sam alone in the house. She let out a long, quiet sigh, fingers brushing over the ornate cover of a journal. When she looked back up Sam was staring at her. “Yes?”

“I, uh, —” Sam cleared his throat, starting again. “Are you going back with Jody?”

“I don’t know,” Alex admitted. “Probably. Why?”

“Listen.” Sam shifted, sitting down on the floor and folding his legs in under him. “I — we, me and Dean — we know you’re hurting after Bobby’s death, okay? I mean, what you did at the hospital —”

“Yeah.” Alex lowered her gaze. “Sorry about the, uh . . . blackout. I think I took out the hospital’s generators.”

“And the whole East coast,” Sam added. Alex looked up in surprise, and he nodded solemnly. “Every generator within a 300 mile radius just died.”

The angel’s feathers prickled in embarrassment, grace shrinking inwards. “Sorry. But . . . you took care of him, right?”

“We burned him yeah.” Sam’s eyes hardened only briefly before melting back into sympathy. “Look, I know it’s been hard. We miss Bobby too, okay? But storming off like this, the way you’ve been acting?” Here the Winchester paused, sighing as he collected his thoughts. “We’re worried about you,” he finally said. “First Castiel, now Bobby. I mean, no offense, but it was bad enough after Cas died, but this . . . we don’t want anything to happen to you. Or for you to do anything stupid, you know?”

Alex’s eyes watered, and she curled her wings around herself in a pitiful attempt of comfort. “I should have saved him,” she insisted through a cracked voice. “He was the only one who’s been there for me every single time I needed someone. Not you, not Dean, definitely not Cas. He was the one person I could turn to, a-and now he’s gone. Because I couldn't save him. It was my job to —” She cut herself off, too afraid to say anything else in fear that she’d break down. “Sorry,” she finished with a choked whisper.

“It’s not your fault. He knew the risks. Listen, Pip . . . I want you to come with us, okay? This isn’t something you need to go through alone, and I want to make sure you’re safe. Dean feels the same way. And . . . we need you too, okay?”

The angel felt more tears well up at his words, but she managed to nod, clenching her teeth to keep her jaw from trembling. It took several, long, deep breaths before she could muster up the stability to whisper, “Yeah. Okay.”

“Thank you.” Sam stood up, cradling the sleeping bag under one arm. He held out his hand, palm up. After only a second’s hesitation Alex reached out, fingers curling around his wrist, and the younger Winchester helped her to her feet. “Come on. Let’s hit the road.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Next chapter will be Saturday cause I have a thing)


	34. The Slice Girls

**June 10, 2012**

**Seattle, Washington**

**D** ean groaned, and Alex raised her head, peering over the seat to look at the two hunters. Sam was driving, Dean passed out in the passenger seat beside him. The hunter looked away from the road as his brother stirred. “Morning,” he said, and Alex pulled herself into a sitting position, pulling herself out of her inner thoughts. 

Dean groaned out a “Hey,” looking around the darkened car. He shifted into a slightly more comfortable position before reaching into his jacket pocket, and Alex heard the sound of metal against metal, followed by the faint whiff of alcohol. 

“Isn’t that Bobby’s?” Sam asked, motioning to the flask his brother held. When Dean took a long drink he added, “I didn’t know you kept that.” 

“Yeah, mine sprung a leak.”

“You know, most people would carry a — a photo or something for a memento.”

“It’s a little weird,” Alex concurred, leaning against the seat. She rolled her shoulders back as she moved, letting her wings rustle through the car, accidentally brushing against their heads; neither of the Winchesters, however, took notice of them. “You know his lips touched that, right?” 

“Shut up," Dean grumbled. “I’m — I’m — I’m honoring the guy, alright? This is, uh, grief therapy,” he added to Sam, “kind of like you and your wild goose chase.”

Sam snorted in amusement. “Wild goose chase?” he repeated disbelievingly. 

“Yeah.” 

“Four guys murdered in two weeks, hands and feet cut off.”

“Yeah, well, some guy with a foot fetish run amuck,” Dean grumbled, slipping the flask back into his jacket pocket. Alex snorted in amusement at his statement; she had read the article herself, and it seemed a little extreme to be a fetish.

Sam wasn’t as amused. “Grown men thrown so hard they went through walls. Did — did you even read the article?” Sam pulled the newspaper off of the dashboard and literally shoved it into Dean’s chest. 

Dean reached up to grab at it, surprised by the sudden motion. “No,” he retorted, “I was napping.” 

“Well, anyways, what else you got going on. Dick Roman’s a dead end for now, you might as well —”

“Stay busy,” Dean recited with his brother. “Yeah, I know, I know.” He shoved the newspaper onto the seat next to him, turning his head to look out the windshield. “Where are we?” 

“About half an hour from Seattle. We’ll be there by 11:30 or so. Swing by the coroner’s, check out the latest body, see what we can find out. That okay?” 

“Yeah, it’s fine.” Dean settled back down into his seat, closing his eyes. “Wake me when we get there.” 

 

 **F** orty minutes later Alex followed Sam and Dean into the King County Medical Examiner’s Office. “Edward Taylor?” Sam held out his hand to a young, curly-haired man. “We spoke on the phone?”

“Agent Wilson.” The man’s eyes flickered over the three of them, a warm-hearted smile on his face. “Uh, yeah. And it’s just Eddie. Right this way.” He led them into the examiner’s room and wheeled out a body from the locker. Alex watched as he pulled back the clean, white sheet to reveal the body of a man. His hands and feet were cut off just above the joint, and the angel shifted closer to note that the wounds were clean cuts, most likely done in one smooth motion. In his chest was carved a sigil. Two semi-circular marks curved away from each other, and a circle in the middle of one was connected to where they joined by a line, giving the mark an almost humanlike figure. A strange, smaller mark lay below, and the angel tipped her head in confusion as to what it meant. 

“The latest, but probably not the last.” The young medical examiner looked up at the two Winchesters, voice suddenly filled with curiosity. “You guys always work this late?” 

Dean nodded. “Ugh, hours suck. But, uh, great benefits package.”

“Oh yeah?” 

“Yeah. Ten percent copay on all drugs.” 

“Seriously?” When Dean grinned and nodded, the man’s smile widened before suddenly faltering. “Oh, but that’s just generic, right?” 

“No, no.” Dean shook his head. “Name brands are cool.” 

Alex cleared her throat, cutting their conversation short. “Um, anything interesting that came up?” she asked, returning her eyes to the body before her. She gently pushed her grace against it, but felt nothing weird. No EMF. Not a ghost. 

“What did our boy here weigh?” Sam added, motioning to the body as well. 

“Uh, a buck ninety. Thrown against a wall so hard it buckled.” His gaze fell to the corpse. “Based on the blood flow at the crime scene, the hands and feet were cut off while he was still alive, just like the others.” He looked back up at the Winchesters. “The killer wanted him to suffer.” 

“And all the vics were male, right?” Dean added. “With the same kind of, uh, artwork as this?” 

“Yeah. Identical.” 

Sam pulled his phone out of his pocket and took a quick picture of the sigil, and Alex looked around the room. “Any ideas of what did this?” she asked. “Any DNA at the any of the scenes?” 

To her surprise, Eddie nodded as he pushed the body back into the refrigeration unit. “Yeah. At all of them. One before this, the guy _bit_ his attacker. Still had a chunk of flesh stuck in his teeth when he came in.” He raised a finger to point to his left cheek for emphasis. “That’s about as good as it gets.” 

“Right,” Dean agreed. 

Sam nodded in agreement. “So we have a match?” 

“We do not.” Dr. Taylor turned around and walked to the computer that sat two feet away. He hit a button, and a window popped up with the words ‘Sample Rejected No Known Genetic Markers.’ “The samples were rejected,” he explained. “The genetic markers don’t match anything we’ve ever seen.”

“Didn’t match any person in the database?” Dean guessed. 

“No, I mean they don’t match anything _human_.”

Alex raised an eyebrow, and her and Sam exchanged looks. Then the youngest Winchester nodded. “Okay. Anything else?” 

The medical examiner looked up at the hunter, blinking in shock at the lack of response he got for such a strange statement. “Uh, no,” he finally said. “That’s . . . that’s it.” 

 

 **“O** kay,” Dean admitted, pushing his way out of the building and into the night, “I’ll admit it could be in the general vicinity of the ballpark of our kind of thing.” 

Alex snorted in amusement, but Sam didn’t tear his eyes away from his phone. “Yeah, uh, ‘didn’t match anything human’ usually seals the deal for me.” Alex leaned up on her tiptoes to see the picture of the symbol that had been carved into the body’s chest. “I don’t know, I’ve never seen this symbol before.” His hand flicked out to touch his brother’s shoulder as he stopped, and Dean turned to look at him. Sam locked his phone and shoved it into his front pocket. “Let’s get a bite to eat, go back to the motel, haul out the laptop.” 

“That’s a great idea,” Dean agreed. “Actually, that’s a brilliant idea. Here’s my counter. You two,” he motioned to Sam and Alex in turn, “do that, I’ll go undercover, go mingle amongst the locals, and see, uh, what kind of clues bubble to the surface.” 

Alex raised an eyebrow. “So you want to go to a bar,” she rephrased, crossing her arms in amusement. 

“Wow. If you want to oversimplify it.” He walked away, leaving Sam and Alex by the old rusted car. 

Alex looked up at Sam, who was still watching his brother, his face a mixture between confusion and exasperation. “Come on.” She whacked Sam’s arm before hurrying over to their ride. “I’m hungry.” 

 

 **A** lex glanced over at Sam. His eyes were still steadily trained on the laptop’s screen, even though her phone read past 3:43 am. The large wall clock ticked slowly, each click of its secondhand drawn out for what felt like minutes. “Find anything?” she finally asked, closing one of Bobby’s journals she had been skimming through. 

“Nothing yet.” 

Alex rolled onto her back, stretching her legs and wings out as far as they could go, and a long breath fell from her lips at the welcome burn of her muscles. “You should go to bed,” she eventually suggested. “We’ve been at this for over four hours. We should just take a break and get some sleep.” When Sam didn’t immediately respond she rolled back onto her stomach. “Seriously. You know we’re gonna need you awake and alert tomorrow.” 

“I know.” To her surprised, the Winchester closed his laptop. “I don’t know where else to look. We’re gonna have to try a different way tomorrow.” He stood up, long arms stretching up over his head. “You heading to bed, too?” 

“Yeah. Probably a good thing Dean’s not here, considering those are most definitely single beds.” Alex looked around the room as Sam crossed over to the bathroom. The door clicked, and she called, “I think I left some of my stuff out in the car. I’ll be right back.” Without waiting for an answer, she slipped out of the room and into the hall. 

She quietly closed the motel door after her, knowing whoever else was staying there would be fast asleep. She was just about to turn around when she heard the rustle of feathers behind her, and her own wings flared out, read to snap as she wheeled around. Then she froze, a burst of fear and surprise pulsing through her. “Ezekiel?” 

The seraph swayed unsteadily as he stepped towards her, heavily favoring his right leg. His wings looked battered, and his blue eyes were dull. “Alex.” He acknowledged her with a small dip of his head, but even that small gesture was painful. 

“What happened?” The young angel hurried to stand in front of him, wings folding forward in concern. Dried blood stained his left flank, partially hidden by his hand on his side. 

The seraph half-heartedly knocked her hand away when she reached for the wound. “Have you seen Elijah?” he demanded, voice rushed and unsteady. 

Alex frowned. She knew Elijah was his brother, the youngest of Cassiel’s four sons. “No,” she began, hurriedly shaking her head. “Why would I have? Zeke, what happened?”

“You’re _sure_ he never came,” Ezekiel persisted, gaze flickering past her in a desperate search of his brother. “He never made it here. Alex. Are you positive?” 

The seraph’s stance faltered, and Alex hurried forward to steady him. “I’m going to get you inside,” she promised, eyes wide at the smell of blood. “Okay?” 

“Alex —”

“Look at you! You’re hurt, Zeke. You -- you need to sit down.” Alex unlocked the motel door and helped him forward. The seraph took two steps before he stumbled, and Alex barely caught him in her arms. “Sam!” she yelled, voice high with desperation as she struggled to keep the angel upright, but she couldn’t get a grasp through the slick blood. 

“What the hell?” Within seconds Sam was at her side, and then the weight was lifted as the Winchester slipped his shoulder under the seraph’s arm. 

“Help me get him inside.” Alex took the other side, and together they carried the angel into the motel room. They gently laid him on the nearest bed, and Alex unbuttoned his white oxford shirt, peeling it back to examine the wound on his side. 

“What happened?” Sam demanded, circling around to stand on the other side of the angel. 

Alex shook her head. “I don’t know. He didn’t get around to telling me.” She prodded at the gaping hole with her grace. “Stab wound. Angel blade.” She pushed her grace against his, doing what she could to help, even though she knew not even an angel’s grace could heal a wound inflicted by that type of weapon. Sam handed her a towel, and she wordlessly accepted it, pressing the white, flimsy fabric into the seraph’s side to stem the blood. “He’ll live though. I — it doesn’t feel to deep.” 

As she spoke Ezekiel stirred, and Alex reached up, cupping his cheek in one hand to look into his eyes, carefully searching for any signs of trouble. “Zeke?” she prodded, hoping the angel was coming back into full consciousness. “Hey, man. You okay? What happened?” 

Ezekiel blinked several times, his soft grey wings shifting in confusion as he looked around. “Alex. What . . . Where is my brother?” 

“I don’t know where Elijah is.” The young angel narrowed her eyes in confusion. “Why would you think that? What’s going on?” Ezekiel turned his eyes to Sam Winchester, and Alex flicked his wings with hers, wanting him to stay on topic. “Zeke.” 

The seraph turned his attention back to her. “Sometimes I forget you spend your time with the True Vessels,” he murmured in apology, struggling to sit up even though Alex tried her best to hold him down. “I’m alright,” he promised solemnly. 

“Yeah,” Sam snorted. “I can tell.” 

Ezekiel wordlessly stared at the Winchester until Alex cleared his throat, prompting him to turn back to her. “There’s been . . . problems in heaven ever since Castiel died,” the seraph finally explained. “Remiel tried to solidify his power, but father isn’t letting him—”

“Wait wait.” Sam cut in. “ ‘Father?’ You mean God?” 

Ezekiel looked thoroughly confused at Sam’s comment, so Alex took the liberty to explain. “I think he’s talking about Cassiel. Zeke’s one of the Firstborns — uh, second generation of angels. His father was an angel created by God.”

Ezekiel nodded, turning his attention back to Alex as he continued. “There was a small . . . skirmish, and I’m afraid some of us have been caught in the middle.”

“Okay. And why would I have seen Elijah? I haven’t seen him in years.” 

“Because he went to you.” The seraph’s eyes narrowed in confusion. “When you called about your friend. We were in the midst of a war, and I couldn’t leave myself, so Elijah went in my place. He never made it to you?” 

“No.” Alex cast a quick glance over at Sam. “No one came.” Ezekiel tried to get up, but she jumped to hold him down. “Why don’t you rest a bit, huh? There’s no hurry. Take a minute and rest.” She looked over at Sam. “You can still go to bed if you want. I’ll watch over him.” 

The Winchester stood up. “I think I’ll take a shower first,” he suggested. “Uh . . . yeah.” With that he walked away, leaving Alex alone with the injured seraph. 

Ezekiel watched him go, only turning back to Alex when Sam was out of sight. “He feels . . . strange,” he finally said. His grace pushed against hers before he added, “Why does he have Lucifer’s grace within him?”

“It’s not important.” Alex gently pushed the seraph back down onto the bed. “I’m taking care of it, but right now, you need to rest. I’m sure Elijah is fine, alright?”

She knew her words sounded hollow, but they seemed to appease the seraph. “Thank you,” he murmured. He settled down onto the bed upon Alex’s insistence. “I won’t stay long,” he promised even as his eyes closed. 

Alex shook her head. “Stay as long as you want.” She shifted, sitting on the side of the bed and looking down at the seraph. “I’d feel better if you stayed anyways.” 

“You’re still angry with me.” Ezekiel murmured through closed eyes, but Alex felt his grace brush up against hers. “I apologize for whatever I have done.” 

The young angel quelled Lucifer’s grace before it got upset. “It doesn’t matter,” she finally said, getting up off of the bed. A long, drawn-out breath left her mouth, and her eyes fell shut. “It doesn’t matter anymore,” she repeated, this time with more conviction. “Rest. You’re safe here.”

 

 **T** he next morning, upon Sam’s insistence, he and Alex drove to the new crime scene, leaving Ezekiel still unconscious on the bed. As they pulled up, Alex spotted Dean making his way down the street. She threw open her door to greet the Winchester. “You look like crap,” she teased light-heartedly as soon as he was in earshot. 

“Yeah, well, I feel worse than I look.” Dean brushed past Alex, and she followed him and Sam across the street. “I do recommend the Cobalt Room, by the way,” he added after a second’s pause, a large grin spreading across his face. “Awesome night. Although I think I’m getting a little too old for this.”

The young angel snorted in amusement. “That’s a weird name for a bar,” she opted to say instead. “Cobalt Room. Huh.” 

“Yeah. It was fancy, that’s for sure.” Dean looked over at his brother. “Did you, uh, figure out that symbol?” 

“No. Um, we’re going to need an expert.”

“Expert?” Dean repeated, and Alex didn’t miss how his eyes flashed at his brother’s suggestion. “Our expert’s _dead._ ” 

“All the more reason to find a new one.” Sam shrugged, glancing down at Alex. She shrugged as well. It wasn’t hard to see that Dean still was in pain, and fighting was only going to make things worse.

They stopped in front of the yellow caution tape to show their badges before continuing on. Alex barely stifled a yawn, wings fluttering as her muscles tensed. There was a policeman inside who directed them down the hall to an open room. Alex stepped inside after the Winchesters and immediately cocked an eyebrow. Blood covered every wall, and the air was thick with its smell. In the middle of the carpet lay the body, and the young angel could immediately tell it was the same MO. “Well, nice decor,” she heard Dean joke. “Very early slaughterhouse,” 

Alex recognized the young medical examiner from last night crouching beside the body, and a sharply dressed woman crouched beside him, her back to them. The medical examiner glanced upward, catching their eyes. “FBI,” he told her in a hushed voice, and the woman stood up and turned around. Short bleached hair, sharp features and dark eyes. “Guys,” Taylor began, rising as well, “This is Charlene Penn. She’s the lead on the case.”

“More of the same,” Charlene informed them cooly, gaze raking over the Winchesters before finally coming to rest on Alex, who straightened her back in an attempt to look just as tall as the men beside her. “No forced entry. Thrown across the room. Made to suffer. Both hands and feet cut off.” 

“Same symbol in the chest,” Sam added. 

“Mm,” Taylor agreed. “Whoever the killer is, the guy’s a monster.” 

The melodic ring of a phone had Alex tipping her head, and the lead investigator pulled out her cell. “Excuse me.” Charlene Penn walked away, and Alex rolled her shoulders back, letting her wings lay flat against her back. 

“This guy’s just like the last one.” Dean moved closer to the body, and Alex followed. “Early 30’s, decent-looking?” 

“Yeah,” the medical examiner agreed, nodding rapidly. “Just like the first three, you know? Fairly successful, no known enemies.” Dean made an interested noise, and Eddie Taylor moved towards the kitchen. “Here.” He waved them over, and Alex followed Dean, glancing behind her to see Sam moving towards the door, where a young man was curiously peering into the room. She veered off, eyes tracing the blood spatters as she did her best to reconstruct the crime. 

There was a large dent in the painting straight across from the door, about six or so feet in the air. Alex tilted her head to see the blood spatter. “Huh,” she grunted, trying to piece together the crime in her mind.

The officer standing next to her looked up at her noise. “Interesting, right?” he agreed in a rough voice. “It looks like he was thrown against the painting, but the amount of force to throw someone up that high . . .” He trailed off, shaking his head. “Doc’s not joking about this thing being a monster.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Alex moved back over to the body, careful to avoid the large puddle of dying blood on the wooden floors. She gently pushed her grace across the body, but felt nothing out of the ordinary. She expanded her search to the entire room, looking for any residual traces of whatever this could be. But she found nothing. 

A hand on her shoulder had her following Dean back towards Sam. “Who was that?” he asked, leading the way back under the police tape and down the hall. 

“Neighbor. Said the vic’s wife caught him cheating.” 

“Yeah,” Dean acknowledged before scoffing, “but we’re not thinking its the wife.” 

“Not unless she benches 350 and did the other guys as a warmup.” 

“Shoot.” Dean’s alarmed voice had Alex looking back at him. He had his hand over his chest, obviously feeling for something no longer in his jacket pocket. “I left Bobby’s flask over at Lydia’s.”

“Lydia?” 

“My, uh, workout partner from last night.” Dean shot the two of them a small grin as he dug his phone out of his pocket, and his voice grew exasperated. “Now I’ve got to go get it.” 

Apparently Sam found the whole situation more amusing than Alex did, and she tipped her head at the humor in his voice as he said, “So, not only do you know her name, but you’re actually gonna call her?” 

Dean didn’t look up from his phone. “Bite me.” 

“Oh, how sweet.” Sam teased. “She gave you her number.” 

“They always give you their number.” Dean flashed his brother a smirk and then turned away, raising his phone to his ear. Alex watched their exchange silently, not really having much of an opinion on the topic. He stopped a few feet away. “Lydia? Hey, it’s, uh, Dean from last night. Uh, listen, I think I left something over at your place. It was an old flask. It doesn’t look like much, but it has sentimental value. So, uh, have you seen it?” 

Alex watched as Sam slowly approached, listening to the one side of Dean’s conversation. “You want my number?” he asked after a pause. There was another, longer pause, and the Dean pulled the phone away from his ear, looking down at the screen in slight confusion. He glanced over at them to see Sam staring at him. “She’s real busy,” he lamely explained. 

Sam just smirked and hurried away. After a second’s pause, Alex followed. She made her way out and over to the rusted old car, sliding into the backseat as Sam and Dean followed. “Now where?” she asked as Dean started the car. “We should probably go check on Zeke, don’t you think?” 

“Wait wait. What?” Dean glanced back at her, confusion written clearly across his freckled face. “What do you mean? Who exactly is Zeke?”

“Ezekiel.” Alex flapped her wings for emphasis as she expounded, “He’s an angel. Seraph, actually. While you were out galavanting, we had to deal with a half-dead angel looking for his brother.”

Dean snorted. “Galavanting, huh? That’s the word you chose to use?” 

“That’s what you choose to focus on?” Alex quipped back. She watched as Dean rubbed his neck, grunting slightly, and she reached out, fingers brushing along the skin. “Sore?” she guessed, grace feeling along the tight muscles. 

“You have no idea,” Dean chuckled. “Let me tell you; she was way more limber than I had expected. I —”

“Dean? Don’t.” Alex gently smacked him on the side of the head and fell back against the worn backseat. “Just don’t. Do I _really_ need to hear about this? I-I mean, it’s gross enough to think about the fact that you have a dick, much less that you _use_ it.” She followed her words by pulling truly disgusted face. “Ugh.” She looked over at Sam, knowing she didn’t need to repeat the same warning to him. “So where are we going?” 

“Uh, I actually might have an idea.” Sam pulled out his phone. “Last night I found a professor at Seattle  
University. He’s an anthropology prof and should be a pretty good lead.”

Dean hesitated, and Alex heard the poorly-hidden reluctance in his voice when he spoke. “Okay. Seattle U is it.” Dean started the car and it slowly rolled down the street. 

 

 **H** alf an hour later Alex pushed her way through the large, wooden doors at the entrance to the Anthropology Building at Seattle University. “So who are we here to see?” she asked, gaze flitting over an empty glass case as they passed by.

“Uh, a Dr. Stephen Morrison.” Sam led the way up the marble stairs, and, after a short pause of deliberance, to the right. His office was only three doors down, and Sam knocked twice before stepping inside. “Dr. Morrison? We’re with the FBI. Do you have a minute?” 

Alex pushed her way past Dean and into the room to see the professor sitting behind his large oak desk. Professor Morison was a pale, aged man, probably in his mid sixties. Thin, wiry glasses sat on the bridge of his nose, and he peered over them as he looked up to acknowledge his visitors. “Can I help you?” he asked, putting down the piece of paper he had been reading. 

“Yeah.” Sam sat down in one of the plush chairs in front of the desk and dug through the leather file-holder that held all of the reports from the latest crime scenes. He pulled out a printed photo of the symbol carved into the victims’ chests and held it out. “What can you tell us about this?” 

The professor took it, eyes narrowing as he carefully scrutinized it. Dean moved to the far wall, gaze turning to the huge wall of books to their left. Alex slowly followed, wings twitching slightly at the cluttered office. She didn’t like the clutter; it reminded her of Bobby’s. 

“Fascinating,” the professor finally announced, drawing Alex’s attention back to him. “Truly. And actually, rather accomplished draftsmanship.”

“Yeah,” Dean agreed sarcastically, moving to sit down in the chair beside Sam, “if you get past the fact that it was carved into a man’s chest.” Alex stood behind Dean, opting to cross her arms across her chest as she watched the conversation.

“Professor Morrison,” Sam continued, choosing to ignore his brother’s comment, “we’re hoping you can tell us what the symbol means.”

“Ah. Maybe.”

“Maybe?” Alex repeated, eyebrows raised. ‘Maybe’ always meant trouble. “What exactly does ‘maybe’ mean, professor?”

Dr. Morrison put the photo down on his desk and leaned back in his chair. “It’s possible I could, even likely.” He folded his hands in his lap and looked expectantly between the two Winchesters. “Is the FBI offering suitable remuneration?” 

Dean looked over at his brother, eyes widening at the sudden question. Sam, after a moment of confused moment, finally lied, “The respect of a grateful nation.” 

“ _And_ a good word with the IRS,” Dean quickly added when the professor didn’t looked taken in by Sam’s proposition. 

“Ah.” After a very long pause Dr. Morrison looked back down at the photo, and Alex let out a small noise of relief. “Well,” he finally said, “it appears quite ancient.” 

Dean snorted, clearly unimpressed with the professor’s announcement. “Well that narrows it down,” he scoffed under his breath, and Alex rolled his eyes at the Winchester’s impatience. He clearly wasn’t happy with their new ‘expert.’

“A corrupt version of symbology associated with worship,” Morrison continued, ignoring Dean’s muttered comment. “Definitely an obscure regional script. Oh, this will require some research.” A small grin at the complexity of the issue crossed his face. 

“All right. Great.” Sam stood up, and Dean followed suit. “Well, uh, I guess we’ll be seeing you tomorrow.”

The grin dissipated. “Tomorrow?” Dr. Morrison let out a hesitant laugh of disbelief at their request. “I’ve spent entire sabbaticals on projects like this.”

“Professor, we have a _serial killer_ on our hands,” Dean reminded sharply. 

Sam added, “Your government needs you, sir.”

Dr. Morrison leaned forward, and Alex quirked an eyebrow at the words that came out of her mouth. “Gentlemen. My housekeeper needs a green card.” 

Alex felt the Winchesters exchange looks behind her back. “We’ll see what we can do,” she smoothly lied. “We’ll be back tomorrow afternoon.” Then she followed the Winchesters out of the office and down the hall. 

“Good God,” Dean finally muttered. “Where did you find that guy?” 

Sam raised his hands in defeat. “He’s suppose to be an expert in his field,” he half-heartedly defended, and his hands fell back down to his side.

Dean rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well, when his field includes things that go bump in the night, he’s gonna be worth the breath we just wasted,” he groused

Sam let out a huff of laughter. “So what are we supposed to do, Dean? Spin our wheels?” 

“Sam, this _is_ us spinning our wheels, okay?” The eldest Winchester’s voice grew sharp, and Alex flinched at his loud tone.

Sam wheeled around to face his brother, who stopped in his tracks. “Dean, you know what?” he finally said. “I want to call him too, okay? Believe me. But Bobby’s not here. So we’re settling.”

“Yeah,” Dean muttered, knowing he had lost the argument but not yet willing to give up. “We sure are.” 

“Dean.” Alex frowned, crossing her arms in frustration. “We’re doing the best we can, okay?”

“Sure.” Dean dug his phone out of his pocket and frowned. “Dammit,” he finally mumbled to himself. “Why hasn’t she called?” 

Sam immediately sounded amused. “Who? L-Lydia?” When Dean didn’t give an answer he added, “Wait. So some girl’s actually dumping _you_ the morning after?” Alex snorted at the irony. 

“I think you’re enjoying this a little more than you need to,” Dean shot back. “Fuck it. I’m going over there and getting the flask.” 

Dean walked away, and Alex watched him go. Then she looked up at Sam. “We should probably make sure we get to the car first,” she suggested. “You know, so we can get back to the motel.”

“Yeah. Good plan.”

 

 **T** he rusted car was still in the parking lot, and Sam drove them back to the motel. Alex unlocked the door with her grace, pushing her way inside to see that both beds were empty. “Huh.” She kicked off her shoes. “Looks like Zeke already left.” She pushed her grace out anyways to check, but it only confirmed her original statement. 

“Yeah.” Sam shed his suit coat and tossed it over one of the rickety kitchen chairs. “Looks like. How well did you know him? Close friend?”

“He was one of the few angels I got to know while I was in heaven. You know, before I ended up at Balthazar’s. He’s got four brothers, but I only really knew Ezekiel and Koda. Although Emmanuel did save my life one time. Elijah . . .” She shrugged. “We never really got along _that_ well. Then again I never really got to know him. Zeke . . . he’s the one who saved my ass during that ghost-psychic thing in Prosperity a month back.”

“Huh. Well, he seems like a good guy. Good looking.” 

“And way out of my league,” Ale added with a laugh, even though internally she knew that wasn’t quite the case. “Anyways, I’m with Cas.”

Sam let out a long breath, turning to look down at the angel. “Alex —” he reluctantly began.

“He’s coming back, Sam.” Alex immediately cut him off, refusing to hear what he wanted to say. “I — I just know it. And if anything, his absence has just made me realize it more.” She sat down on the nearest bed; she knew how she sounded, but she was _right_. “Anyways. What’s next?” 

Sam dropped the leather-bound field folder onto the table with a shrug. “Well, we’re expected at the morgue in an hour, so we’ll probably head over when Dean gets back,” he suggested. “See if the coroner’s found anything else.” He walked over to the grimy kitchen unit and started up a pot of coffee. “Want any?” he called over his shoulder, holding up the pot so Alex could see.

Alex grunted, turning away. “Maybe later.” 

 

 **F** orty minutes passed, and still there was no sign of Dean. Eventually Sam pulled out his phone, and Alex didn’t miss the worried glance that was shot her way. He set his coffee down on the kitchen counter and walked past where Alex sat. “Hey. Where are you?” he asked his brother. “It’s a flask, not the holy grail.” 

Alex snorted in amusement, glancing at the hunter out of the corner of her eye. 

He shook his head as an answer to whatever question his brother had asked. “No, not yet. Look, would you get back here? We’re due at the crime lab. Dean?” A confused look crossed his face, and he glanced over at Alex. “Look, why don’t you just . . .” He trailed off when he got no response. “Hello?” He pulled the phone away from his ear and shook his head. “Idiot.”

“What’s up?” 

“No idea.” Sam grabbed his jacket off of the chair. “Come on. Screw Dean, we need to go.”

 

 **A** lex stared down at the mutilated corpse, now moved from the floor of his apartment to the steel table at the morgue. It had been cleaned, and she could clearly see wounds inflicted. Dr. Taylor drew the sheet back over it, hiding it from her view. “So again,” he concluded, walking them over to the evidence table, “we got a guy weighing about two bills, thrown into a wall so hard he’s got pieces of plaster lodged in his skull.”

“What triggered the Fed’s involvement in this case?” The voice of Charlene Penn, lead investigator, had Alex turning to see the woman walk up to Sam. “I always think you boys have bigger fish to fry.”

Sam opened his mouth, then hesitated, looking down at Alex. “No,” he started, “actually we, we — uh —”

The medical examiner was quick to speak up. “I just figured it was the similarity to the other cold cases?” he suggested. “If it's the same killer, then he crossed state lines — that would bring you guys in.” 

Alex looked up at Sam, quickly reigning in any confusion that sprung up across her face. He nodded in earnest. “Well, that’s exactly right.” He looked over at Penn. “Uh, what he said.” 

“Yeah. Whatever.” Displeasure lined the lead investigator’s voice. “You’re gonna have to wrap this up. Your case isn’t the only one we’re working on.” She stalked away, and Alex watched her go, shaking her head slightly. 

“You get use to her,” Dr. Taylor half-apologized, one eye watching Penn disappear from sight. 

Sam turned back to Dr. Taylor. “Uh, so, Eddie, by the way, I didn’t bring the cold case files with me. Is there a chance you have a copy?” 

“Yeah.” Eddie walked over to the lab bench, leaving the two hunters alone for a few seconds. 

Alex watched as Sam studied the myriad of small plastic evidence bags that lay arranged in front of them. He reached forward and picked up what looked to be a receipt. “The Cobalt Room,” he read.

“Mm.” Eddie walked back over to them carrying a large file folder. “Yeah, it’s pretty well known. Looking to hook up, it’s a pretty great place to go.”

“I’ve heard.” Sam put the receipt down and accepted the files from the medical examiner. 

“Vic number two was there,” Eddie added. “And according to his security guard, he left with a hot girl. Two days later, he’s an obituary.” 

“Same with Jerry Price.” Sam flipped through the top folder before looking down at Alex, and she nodded, knowing what that look meant; there was definitely something up with that bar. 

“Mm-hmm.” Eddie nodded in agreement with Sam’s statement. “And as far as we can tell, at least a couple of those in there.”

“Same thing in Chicago.” Sam moved on to a different folder, scanning each report with an increasing interest. 

“Yep. A lot of busted marriages, flings with unknown women, that kind of thing, all just before they got off.” 

“Thanks.” Sam closed the folder and tucked it under his left arm. “We’ll be in touch.” He led the way out of the room, and Alex shook her wings out as they exited.

“Looks like we might have a lead,” she finally said. “Cobalt Room. Dean’s gonna be pleased.” 

Suddenly she had the folders pressed into her chest as Sam dug out his phone. “Speaking of.” He raised his cell to his ear as he led the way down the hall. “Dude,” he finally said. “You never showed.” He paused, then exclaimed, “Oh, come on, man. What, are you obsessed or something?” Another pause, and he raised his eyebrows in disbelief. “Meaning what?” Another pause before, “Or you're obsessed.” 

Alex trailed behind him, straining her ears to hear Dean’s portion of the conversation. “Shut up,” she heard him grumbled. “I’m serious.”

“Okay,” Sam relented. “Uh, you — you need backup or . . .” He trailed off while Dean replied with something about being fine, followed by a question. “Apparently there was an identical murderfest two years ago in Chicago,” Sam explained, “and again in Miami two years before that. All the victims were young, successful, a lot of them went to the same bar. It all lines up. The trails always went cold fast.”

“Yeah?” she heard Dean ask. 

“Yeah. Oh, and by the way, as a personal kicker, here, at least some of the vics hooked up in that bar you went to, the, uh, the Cobalt Room. So, just saying man, you — you dodged a bullet.”

“Got to go.” 

Sam stopped walking when he realized Dean had hung up. “Nice talk,” he muttered at his phone before shoving it in his pocket. “Come on,” he decided. “Let’s get back to the motel. There’s gotta be something in these files.” 

Alex handed them back to him as she followed him out of the building. “Where’s Dean?” she asked. “And why wasn't he here?” 

“He’s still at Lydia’s.” Sam let out an amused breath of air. “Says something weird’s going on there but I don’t know.” 

“Huh.” Alex circled around to her side of the car. “Can we get dinner on the way back?” she suddenly asked. “It’s getting late.” 

“Yeah.” Sam slid into the driver’s seat, and Alex followed suit. “Yeah, that sounds like a good idea.” 

 

 **D** ean didn’t get back until late that night. “You would not believe the day I had,” he announced, stalking into the room and slamming the door shut behind him. Alex and Sam looked up from where they were seated at the kitchen table as the Winchester tossed his jacket onto the counter. “It — I don’t even know where to start.”

“Try the beginning,” Alex quipped dryly, closing the folder she had been skimming through. “And it couldn’t have been that bad, considering while we were doing work you were playing hooky—”

“I was working,” Dean shot back. “Let me tell you. This is nine circles of crazy, okay?” He looked over at Sam. “So I get there, and all of a sudden she has a kid. Like a two year old girl. But when you called me, I swear that kid started _talking_. Like full on sentences. Two hours later and this, this car shows up and this kid comes out. But this time, she’s like five.”

“So what?” Sam shrugged. “I mean, so maybe she has another kid she didn’t tell you about.”

“Nope,” Dean shook his head. “Just the one. Emma. But that night when I was with her, she didn't have any. And I was at her place, man. There was no playpens, no blankets, no rubber ducks.”

“Right,” Sam agreed, obviously finding this conversation far more amusing that Dean did. “Like you’d be focused on that kind of stuff.” Alex barely held back a snicker, turning her attention to the papers in front of her as a distraction. 

“Hey, dude,” Dean defended, “that’s the _first_ thing you notice. Red flags.” When Sam scoffed, he pulled three beers out of the fridge. “Then all of a sudden — boom — baby.” 

“Sure.” Alex took one of the beers Dean offered, using her grace to open it before taking a short sip. “Cause that makes sense.”

“And this is the same baby who you thought talked,” Sam guessed, cocking his eyebrows as he glanced at Alex; the angel snorted in amusement.

“Oh, it talked. And not baby talk either!” Dean handed Sam the other beer before opening his. A short huff of air escaped his nose, and his tense muscles signaled his frustrations at them for not taking him seriously. 

If Sam noticed, he didn’t let up. “Now you know so much about child development?” 

“I know enough to know that they don’t say, ‘Hey Mom, who’s _that_ guy?’ ” Dean countered. “So cut to—” He sat down at the table and closed Sam’s laptop, looking his brother in the face. “Lydia’s handing this kid who’s calling her mommy over to these two women, right? But this is no baby. No, no, the kid’s got to be five. And same name — Emma.” He leaned back in his seat and took a drink, point proven.

Sam leaned back as well. “You know, George Foreman named all his kids George.” 

This time Alex actually did laugh, and Dean shot her a quick glare. “Are you deliberately messing with me?” When Sam shrugged he stabbed the table with his pointer finger. “Dude, I know weird. Okay? There is no non-weird explanation for this. This morning, Emma was a baby. By sunset, she’s Hannah Montana. Early years,” he added as an afterthought. 

Sam opened his mouth to respond, but his phone chose that moment to ring, it’s shrill cry cutting through the darkened room. The hunter looked down at it. “It’s the professor,” he explained, moving to answer it. 

“Oh. Good. The Professor. I’m sure he’ll crack this thing wide open.” 

“Shh.” Sam raised a finger to his lips as he answered his phone. “Hello?” A long pause, and then he looked surprised. “That’s great. What time? Eleven? Yeah, that works just fine. Thanks.” He hung up and tossed his phone onto the table. “Dr. Morrison found something. Wants us down there at eleven tomorrow.” 

Dean nodded. “Sounds like a plan.” He finished his beer and set it down on the table. “Dibs on the shower,” he called, getting back to his feet and kicking off his dress shoes. He walked away, and Alex just shook her head. 

 

 **T** he next morning, at exactly eleven o’clock, Alex followed Sam and Dean into one of the large lecture halls in the Anthropology Building of Seattle University. Dr. Morrison was standing at the forefront of the room, and motioned them to sit. The three of them did so; Sam took the third row, while Alex sat with Dean across the aisle from him in the fourth. 

The professor clicked a button, and the symbol from the body appeared on the large screen. “Agents. Glad you could all join me,” he began, voice loud and clear as if they were in an actual lecture, “You know, identifying the scroll was no day at the beach. Lesser scholars would have crumbled.”

“Professor?” Sam quickly intervened. “The symbol?" 

“Yeah. Yeah. It’s ancient, regional. _Very_ difficult to identify. But I managed to find a match." The image on the screen morphed into the top arch of a Grecian building, and the professor quickly fell into lecture mode. “It's a variation of a symbol associated with the Greek Pantheon, the temple of the goddess Harmonia. According to the myth, the coupling of Harmonia and Ares, the god of War, produced the Amazons.”

“The Amazons?” Sam repeated.

“Like Wonder Woman?” Dean frowned, and the chair creaked as he shifted in confusion.

“No, like — like a tribe of warriors. They actually existed. The comic books — they’re just silly perversions.” The screen turned back to a large Greek etching. “The symbol, I believe it originated with the Amazons. Pictograph meant to pay homage to Harmonia — occult talisman, if you will. They had an exclusively female culture. No men whatsoever, except procreation.” 

“All the vics were male.”

“So you said.” The professor acknowledged Sam’s words. “With this symbol carved into their chests.” 

“And their hands and feet cut off.” 

“Now _that’s_ interesting.”

“Got our attention,” Dean quipped back, barely loud enough for the professor to hear. Alex grunted in agreement.

Dr. Morrison ignored him, continuing on in his brisk tone. “After they were impregnated, they killed the male — first by cutting off certain body parts.” 

Alex looked over at Dean, an eyebrow quirked. “Interesting,” she eventually said, turning back to the professor. “Hands and feet specifically, or more . . . intimate parts? Cause our victims had all their . . . dangly bits intact, you know what I mean? I mean, might be me, but that seems the most logical part to cut off after . . . you know, having him sire a child.” She stifled a grunt at the kick from Dean, flicking in him on the back of the head in retaliation. “It makes sense,” she defended with a mutter.

“I don’t know,” Dr. Morrison admitted after a few seconds thought. “I wasn’t able to find much on the subject. I can keep looking . . .”

“If anything does come up, let us know,” Sam agreed, rising from his seat. “But thank you for your time. Your country thanks you.” He led the way towards the door, and behind her Alex the professor’s confused voice. 

“What about my green card?” 

 

 **“I** ’ve got nothing.” Alex dropped the heavy book onto the bed, shaking her head in disbelief. “I mean, there’s only so much the internet can tell me, and these books are a complete bust.”

“I’m sure there’s something in here somewhere,” Dean half-heartedly defended, still pawing through the boxes of Bobby’s books. “I know Bobby’s got a Grecian encyclopedia of weird here. I saw it last time I was looking through this stupid . . .” He cut off, coughing at the dust that arose when he pulled a large book free. “Would it kill him to have a system?” 

“He _has_ a system,” Sam pointed out, barely looking up from his laptop at the table. “His files are set up like his brain.” He looked up to watch his brother unscrew Bobby’s flask and take a long drink.

“Which not even _I_ understand,” Alex shot back, flipping her laptop open. “I mean, all I have is that the Amazons would literally brand the right breast of the young girls. Kept it from growing so all the ‘strength’ would be diverted to the right arm and shoulder. Made them better equipped for battle or something.” She shrugged, looking up. “But somehow I have the feeling that’s not really gonna help us. What about you guys? Anything?” 

“Uh, yeah, actually. There’s this whole crazy side of the lore Dr. Morrison didn’t even mention. The, uh, one-breasted part included.”

“That’s cause he didn’t believe in it, which is a real handicap when you’re trying to deal with it,” Dean muttered, grabbing a book and joining Alex on the bed. The springs squeal in protest under his weight, and Alex shifted her things slightly so they didn’t slide into him. 

There was a short pause, and then Sam agreed. “Right. Um, apparently there was this long, bloody war. The Amazon population was decimated, so they made a bargain with Harmonia to replenish their ranks and make them stronger.” 

“Always a good idea,” Alex muttered. 

“And I’d say throwing grown men through walls qualifies as stronger,” Dean added. He shifted on the bed, and Alex leaned against him, letting out a tired groan as she dropped her head to his shoulder.

“Yeah,” Sam agreed. “Well, basically, they became more than human. Harmonia turned them into monsters.” 

“Can you kill them like humans?” Dean flipped through the book that was in his lap, fingers dancing over the worn pages as he skimmed. “Or is there some kind of trick?” 

“Um, doesn’t say. No idea. I guess it could go either way.” 

“Well that’s helpful.” Dean turned the page. “What else?” 

“Lore says they reproduce quickly — as in, after mating, they give birth within thirty six hours.” At those words Alex noticed Dean paused, looking up from his book, his sharp face morphing into one of confusion. “The babies grew incredibly fast, then the aging process became normal. Which is one way to make an army, I guess. The mating cycle is every two years. They send out all the woman who had reached childbearing age.” 

“Which lines up,” Dean agreed, “cause this happens every couple of years in different towns, right?” 

“Yeah. And we know for sure that at least some of the vics hooked up with strange women days before being killed Amazon style.” 

Dean closed the book and tossed it onto the other bed before slowly standing up. “Hooked up in the same bar I met Lydia, right?” 

“Yeah.”

“And then suddenly she’s got a little baby in fruit-fly time.” Dean walked over to his brother. “That baby turns into a little girl just as fast.” 

“Wow.” Sam looked confused, then his gaze flickered up to Dean. “So maybe you’re a — a —”

“Don’t say it.”

Sam looked between Alex and Dean. “Look,” he started, “if that kid’s yours —”

“I said don’t say it!” Dean’s voice grew sharp, and Alex closed her laptop, straightening up in her seat. 

“Fine,” Sam relented, voice growing sharp as well. “I won’t. But, Dean . . . dude, seriously, a one-night stand, you’re just gonna . . . roll the dice? You don’t even —”

“Of course not,” Dean snapped, more out of indignancy than anything else. “What do you think I’m brain dead?” When Sam looked like he was considering the possibility, Dean quickly added, “Accidents happen. If one did, which I-I-I don’t think . . .” He paused, thinking back, and after several long seconds a small smile flashed across his lips at a particularly good memory, but he quickly wiped it away. “No,” he said. “You know what? We’re — stop. We’re not gonna talk about this any more cause my skin’s starting to crawl!” 

“All right, fine.” Once again Sam let Dean have his way. “But if it’s true, if it happened . . .”

“I know. I got to hang onto my hands and feet.” Dean unscrewed the cap from the flask and took another long pull before shaking his head. “I,I just — no.” Alex opened her mouth to suggest something, but Dean must have heard, because he turned to point a finger at her. “I swear if you say _anything_ , I’m gonna punch you in the face.” 

Alex held up her hands in fake innocence, sitting back down on the bed. She and Sam exchanged glances, and Dean stalked into the kitchen. 

 

 **T** hey worked late into the night. At one point, Sam started printing off every piece of information he could find on the Amazons, and Alex went between helping him pin it all up on the cracked wall and skimming through Bobby’s old books. She had just settled into a thick, tattered book when Dean finally spoke up, breaking the silence. “Looking through Bobby’s files is like dumpster diving,” he muttered, looking down at the array of papers and books scattered across the bed.

“Yeah, tell me about it.” Sam picked up a recent newspaper clipping and walked across the room to the outside wall. “So, it makes sense why, uh, why the Amazons all want to hook up with decent, successful guys.”

“Oh, they’re picky about the gene pool?” Dean half-guessed, looking down his phone.

“Right.” Sam pinned the article up on the high left corner of the wall with a large tack before turning to look at Dean, voice pointed. “So. What was Lydia doing with you?” 

“Well, she may or may not have thought I was a rich investment banker.”

Alex snorted in amusement, but Sam just looked exasperated, hands dropping to his side with a sigh. “You could totally pull of a rich, sexy banker,” Alex vocalized, leaning back to run her eyes across Dean.

Dean looked down at her and grinned. “Damn straight.”

“Stop.” Sam shook his head. “N-Not helping.” He turned back to the evidence on the wall, running large hand down his face. Alex turned her attention back to the book in front of her, shivering as the room grew chill. She glanced towards the open window and curled her wings around her. 

“Sam.” Dean’s urgent voice had Alex looking up. 

“Yeah?” Sam turned as well, glancing towards his brother, who was staring down at the papers spread out on the bed across from Alex. 

“These papers moved.” Dean pointed down, and Alex put her book down curiously, wings uncurling from around her. A piece of parchment sat on top of a book, scrawled in Attic Greek. 

“What?” 

“I didn’t touch them.” Dean looked over at his brother, eyes wide, and Alex watched as a silent message passed between them, almost painfully loud. _Bobby?_ In response, Alex pushed her grace out into the room, disappointment prickling at her heart when she felt nothing. 

Sam walked over to his jacket on the table and pulled out his EMF detector, slightly rolling up the sleeves to his green-and-white plaid shirt as he did so. He silently raised the antenna, and the red lights turned on. “It’s all over the place.” He walked over to them. “Redline.” He moved back towards the table. “Redline.” The hunter paused by the open window. “Oh. And _power lines_ near an _open window_ where there’s a _breeze_ —” Sam turned off the EMF, “— that could have moved the papers.”

Dean’s shoulders squared at his brother’s harsh tone. “Did you feel a breeze?” he challenged. “Come on, Pip, back me up.” 

“I . . . I don’t know,” Alex reluctantly admitted. “I can’t tell if a ghost doesn’t manifest itself. It . . .” She trailed off, a tightness in her chest, but she pushed back her grief . “I don’t know how--” 

“It doesn't matter,” Sam cut in. “The readings are useless.”

“Hey. Maybe, uh . . .” Dean fished his flask out of jacket pocket, shaking it slightly in emphasis. 

Sam’s eyes hardened. “We _burned_ him, Dean.” 

“So?” Alex got up off of the bed. “Wouldn’t be the first time ghosts have attached to something that wasn’t their remains.”

“She’s right,” Dean added, blinking in surprise when Sam stepped towards him. “Why don’t you see it?” 

“Because it’s not Bobby!” the hunter snapped. 

Alex’s wings spread upwards, face dark. “Why not?” 

“Because we _want_ it to be!” Sam rounded on Alex, who took a step back at his anger, eyes wide with shock. 

“Dude.” Dean put a hand on his shoulder, drawing his anger away from Alex. Sam brushed him off, taking a deep breath. Then he snatched the piece of parchment Dean and been point to off of the bed. Dean added hopefully, “Maybe it’s useful.” 

“It’s in a pile of maybe it’s useful,” Sam shot back, although his anger had lessened some. “Besides. It’s in Greek. Nobody reads Greek.”

“Except Greeks,” Dean agreed. “And _Bobby_.”

“I read some Greek,” Alex volunteered. “Bobby taught me.” She held out her hand, and Sam handed her the paper, so she read the title out loud. “Uh, _πολεμιστές_. Warriors.” Her gaze dropped to the first line. _“κάλουν τη δολοφονία — τη δολοφονία_ is the singular dative form of ‘murder,’ by the way. So it’s off to an interesting start. . .” She trailed off, skimming through the first few sentences. “It’s a pretty obscure dialect,” she finally said, looking up. “Definitely about the Amazons. I can give you the gist of it, but it’d take upwards of all night to thoroughly translate.” 

“Professor Morrison knows Greek.” Sam took the parchment back from her, ignoring how Dean rolled his eyes at the mention of the man. “I’m going, Dean.” He shoved the parchment into a black folder and fled it up. “You stay here, keep the doors locked. Don’t go anywhere. I mean it.” 

Sam grabbed his jacket off of the chair, and Alex got to her feet as well. “I’ll come with,” she insisted. “I’m sure between the two of us Morrison and I can make out what is says.” 

Sam gave a curt nod, and Alex followed him out of the hotel room, slamming the door behind her. 

 

 **L** ess than half an hour later, they were hurrying up the marble stairs to the anthropology building. Sam led the way down the linoleum hallway, heavy boots thudding against the ground, and Alex followed close behind, her canvas shoes almost silent in comparison. Sam shoved open the door to Dr. Morrison’s office, and Alex heard the professor startle in surprise at their sudden entrance. “Oh, you have got to be kidding me. I have office hours tomorrow —”

“I’m sorry, Professor, but I need your help.” Sam put the folder down on the desk, opening it so the man could see the parchment inside. 

Dr. Morrison removed it from the folder. “The FBI isn’t me enough for this,” he muttered, peering through his glasses at the faded letters. 

Sam hesitated, and then he leaned forward against the desk. “Alright,” he bluffed, “ I’ll sweeten the deal. We’ll remove your wiretap.”

The professor looked up in alarm, but Sam steadily held his gaze until the man quickly turned his attention the parchment at hand. _Wiretap?_ Alex mouthed at Sam, the corner of her lips quirking upwards in amusement. The hunter shrugged, sitting down in the chair facing the desk. 

“It’s fascinating,” Dr. Morrison said after several, long minutes. 

“What’s it say?” 

“Oh, I haven’t gotten there yet. The paper is handmade. A cellulose, rather like papyrus, which would explain its durability.” 

“Professor —”

“Wherever did you get this?” The professor looked over at Sam.

“Uh . . . a — a crazy, drunk, old genius.”

“Yeah, they always have the good stuff.” Professor Morrison turned his attention back to the parchment. “Well, it’s in Greek.” 

“Yeah, we got that already,” Alex quipped, leaning forward slightly. “It’s about the Amazons, right? Or, uh, the ‘Warriors,’ as the title states.” 

The man looked over at the young girl. “You read Greek?” 

“And Latin. Some Sumerian. Little bit of all the phonetic languages, I guess. Hieroglyphs are a bitch, though.” She motioned to the paper in his hands. “It’s an obscure dialect, though. I wasn’t able to make out anything past the the main ideas. We were hoping you could read it, though.”

“You’re right about it not being a common dialect,” the professor agreed, eyes darting about as he skimmed the page. “My God, what is it with you and Amazons?” 

“Professor, it’s important.” 

“At 11:30 at night, it better be,” Morrison retorted. He paused in his reading. “Oh. Here’s a new twist.” He looked up at the two hunters. “It repeats the conventional lore. Amazon warriors mate with males. The males are murdered. Yada yada. But according to this . . . It’s not the women who do the killing. Instead, a ritual of initiation requires that the child born of the mating process must kill her own father.” 

“What?” 

“That’s what it says.” 

“Does it say anything else?” Alex persisted, wings curling forward. “Say . . . I don’t know, maybe how to kill one?” 

“What?” Dr. Morrison looked over at Alex in pure confusion. “Why —”

“I think that’s all we need, thanks.” Sam stood up and collected the parchment from the professor’s hands, who reluctantly let it go. “Uh, thanks for your help, and sorry about the time. If anything else comes up, we’ll be in touch, but we really need to go.” 

Alex felt the professor’s gaze on her back as they left the office, and she rolled her shoulders back, letting her wings shake out. “Talk about a plot twist,” she finally said. “Dean’s expecting the wrong person.” 

“Yeah. We should get back there as soon as we ca—” Sam cut off abruptly as Charlene Penn suddenly rounded the corner, and the hunter barely came to a halt in time to avoid colliding. “Detective,” he politely acknowledged, glancing back at Alex. 

“Agents.” Penn’s voice was cold. “You’re here late.” 

“Yeah. Listen. Can we talk in the morning?” Sam tried to slip past her, but Charlene reached out, grabbing Sam’s arm. 

“What’s your hurry, Sam?” she asked, and Alex blinked in confusion, Sam’s expression mimicked on her own face. “Sam Winchester.” Charlene continued. “Let’s see. I could run the two of you in for impersonating a federal agent.”

“Let him go,” Alex insisted, wings flaring out in warning. 

Charlene Penn looked over at her, and then the skin around her eyes turned red, eyes turning a dark shade of yellow. She suddenly turned and threw Sam down the marble stairs that led to the exit, and Sam let out a grunt as he hit the hard ground. Alex’s angel blade slipped into her hands and she stalked forward, wings arching high into the air. Penn wheeled on her, fists flying out, and Alex ducked, pushing her grace out to off-balance the woman before using her momentum to spin past the woman, angel blade twirling in her hand so she could sink the blade deep into the woman’s back. She pulled free, and Charlene Penn fell to the ground behind her, dead. 

Sam was just barely struggling to his feet, and Alex hurried down the stairs to meet him. “You okay?” she asked as the hunter leaned against the stone wall. “Let me guess; that was an Amazon.” She pushed her grace against it. “It . . . feels like a normal person.” 

“Really? Huh. She, uh, had a brand on her wrist. I saw it.” Sam crossed the small foyer to grab his phone that lay on the steps. He let out a breath when he saw it was broken beyond repair. “Give me your phone. We have to tell Dean.” 

“M-My phone?” Alex looked over at Sam. “I don’t have my phone with me?” 

“What? Why the hell not? Where is it?” 

“Back at the motel charging, cause this new phone you bought me is a piece of shit.” Alex pushed open the heavy wooden door and stepped into the night air. “Come on. We need to get back to the motel now.” 

 

 **A** lex sprang out of the car behind Sam, slamming the door and almost jumping over the hood in a hurry to keep up with the Winchester. He was already halfway up the hotel stairs by the time she flung open the door, and she tore after him, smaller legs quickly working to her disadvantage. She slid to a stop on their floor, where Sam was slowly creeping towards the door. He waved her over, a finger against his lips, and Alex pulsed her grace out, feeling her way into their room. “Someone’s there,” she whispered as Sam stopped in front of their door. 

“I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you.” That was a girl, probably a young teen. “So now someone has to kill someone.”

The door was unlocked, and Sam quietly opened it, peering inside. Alex ducked underneath him to see a young, blonde girl facing Dean, who had his Colt drawn. “You know what?” the girl was saying, and a flash of light had Alex’s attention drawn to the long knife in her hand. “So far, my childhood’s been kind of disappointing.”

“You haven’t killed anybody yet, Emma.” Dean shifted his weight and steadied his gun. “Walk away. Right now, I won’t go after you.”

“I can’t. I don’t have a choice.” 

Alex felt Sam reach back and draw his gun, and he let out a steadying breath before he burst through the door. Alex followed, angel blade falling into her hands as she positioned herself beside the hunter. 

The young girl spun around, the skin around her eyes turning red as she let out a low hiss. The lamplight caught on the long, jagged dagger in her hand, making the metal glint dangerously. Alex raised her wings aggressively, taking a step forward, and Emma turned back to her father, voice pleading. “Please don't let them hurt me,” she begged, and Alex saw confusion and hesitancy flicker through Dean’s emerald eyes. 

Emma turned back to Sam, and Alex flinched as the hunter pulled the trigger. His gun went off next to her ear with a deafening crack, leaving the young angel to curse in surprise. 

Emma gasped as the bullet pierced her stomach, and then she was dead, her soul leaving her body before she even hit the ground. Sam lowered his gun, and Alex pushed her grace against the eldest hunter. “Dean?” She looked over at the hunter, worried by the blank expression across his face as he stared down at the body of his daughter. “You okay?” 

There was a pause before Dean finally forced his gaze up to her face. “I’m fine,” he promised, voice far more steady than Alex had been expecting. His eyes hardened as he slid his gun back into the waistband of his jeans. “There’s a nest downtown,” he informed them. “That’s where the others are. We need to take care of them too.” 

“Yeah, okay.” Alex looked around the motel room, letting her weapon slide back into her sleeve. “Let’s go.”

 

 **A** lex was lying flat in the backseat of the Buick Riviera, which they had exchanged for the old rusted sedan before they had left town. The Amazon nest had been a complete bust, with absolutely nothing left behind. So they had packed up and left town without even checking out of the hotel, and were now back on the dark and lonely road. The angel curled her fingers tighter around the ragged blanket, shifting her head slightly to find a more comfortable position on Dean’s duffle bag. Sam and Dean sat in the front seat, the former behind the wheel, sitting straight and tense, and the car was completely silent bar the harsh thrum of the engine. 

“Hey, you know what?” Dean finally said. “I don’t like it either. I wanted to torch ‘em just as much as you. Yeah, but, hey . . . next time they surface, we’ll be ready. If we live that long.” Sam didn’t reply, and Dean sighed. “Alright, fine. Just sit there and be pissed.” 

A second or two passed before Sam spoke, his voice sharp with anger. “What did you say to me . . . when _I_ was the one who choked? What did you say about Amy? ‘You kill the monster!’ ”

“I was _going_ to,” Dean retorted. “And keep your voice down, dammit. Alex’s sleeping, and God knows when she did that last, okay?”

Sam snorted, but lowered his voice. “Like hell you were,” he hissed. “You think I’m an idiot?”

“What, you think _I_ am?” 

“Dean, you were going to let her walk!” 

“No I wasn’t!” Dean’s voice rose, and then it quickly dropped. Alex heard him turn in her seat, and she held her breath, keeping her eyes closed. “Fine. You want the truth? How — how was I supposed to kill her, man? She looked like Alex, you know? With the hair a-and the same damn puppy eyes. And that’s all I could think about, okay?” His voice cracked, and Alex’s wings twitched in sympathy. “A-And after — you know what?” His voice hardened as he shook the thought off. “Never mind. Forget it.” 

“Look man, I get it. I do. But look man, she wasn’t Alex. She wasn’t even yours —”

“Actually she, uh, she _was_ , really. She was my daughter. She just also happened to be a crazy man-killing monster. But, uh, hey.” 

“You know what?” Sam finally said. “Bobby was right. Your head’s not in it, man. When Cas died you were wobbly, but now —”

“Now _what?”_ Dean snapped voice sharp with anger . “Oh, what, you’re dealing with so perfect? Like Alex is dealing with this well? At least I _stayed.”_ Alex shifted on the seat, freezing when she heard Dean hesitate. However, he only lowered his voice as he continued, “And news flash, pal — you’re just as screwed up as I am! You — you’re just . . . bigger.” 

“What?!” Sam’s indignant cry cut through the car. 

Dean immediately backtracked. “I don’t know.”

“Look . . . Dean, the thing is, tonight . . . it almost got you killed. Now, I don’t care how you deal. I really, really don’t. But just don’t . . .” Sam trailed off and for several seconds didn’t say anything. When he spoke again, his voice was quiet. “ . . . don’t get killed.”

“I’ll do what I can.”

“Well, what’s that suppose to mean?” 

“It means I’ll do what I can, alright? You can shut up about it.”


	35. Plucky Pennywhistle's Magical Menagerie

**A** lex hurried down the sidewalk, headphones tucked in her ears and grocery bags tightly held in her hands. Her wings were hanging loosely across her back, feathers prickling uncomfortably as the hot, unrelenting sun beat down on her back. She hurried up the small hill and crossed the motel parking lot, unlocking the door to her room with a flick of her grace. It swung open to reveal the two Winchesters inside, and as soon as she entered she kicked it closed. “We need cash, guys,” she announced, setting the bags down on the table and tugging her headphones out of her ears. “I mean, we’re running on fumes here.”

Dean looked up from where he was laying on the bed, laptop on his chest. “What’d you get?” 

“Whatever was cheap and on sale.” Alex dug through the first plastic bag. “I hope you like coffee ice cream.” 

Sam’s shoulders dropped in disappointment and disbelief. “You didn’t.” 

“No way.” Dean got off of the bed, eyes as wide as a child’s on Christmas Day. Alex chuckled and handed the container to him, and Dean grinned. “You’re awesome.” 

“You’re ridiculous.” Sam shook his head. “Didn’t you get anything healthy?” 

“Hey,” Alex retorted. “Healthy stuff is expensive. Seriously. You guys need to get out to a bar and get some cash or something.” 

Sam rolled his eyes, and Dean reluctantly put the ice cream down on the table. “Well, we’re heading out anyways. Frank’s suppose to check in at the rest stop along the Idaho. Maybe he’s got something on Dick. We have to leave in the next hour or so.”

Alex looked down at the food she had boughten and shrugged. “Good. We’ll just save this for the road. And it’s about time we’re getting out of here,” she added. “I don’t like this neighborhood. Too . . .” She ran her tongue along the back of her teeth, searching for the right word, “innocent.” She shrugged again before walking over to her bed. “When are we leaving?” 

 

 **A** sharp wind blew through her hair, and the angel drew it back over her ear, reaching back to tighten her ponytail. She was sitting on the hood of the Jeep, leaning against the windshield, and Sam stood beside her, flipping through the national newspaper. Dean was about fifteen feet away in a payphone, and she could hear him through the glass. “Seriously, Frank?” he was asking, mouth twisted downwards in a frown. “Pay phones? I mean, come on. I — I’m getting the clap off of this thing just touching it.” He paused, and his eyebrows raised. “Fred Savage? Really? Yeah, I know, big-mouths are everywhere.” He paused once again, and Alex met his gaze before he looked away. “Uh, well, since you asked, some actual intel on the Dick Roman guy would be nice.” 

Alex leaned over Sam’s shoulder, turning her attention away from Dean. “Anything?” she asked curiously, wide eyes flickering over the array of headlines. 

Sam opened his mouth to answer, but just then Dean stepped out of the payphone and crossed the dirt parking lot to stand in front of them. “I hope he finds something quick,” he told them with a scow, his green eyes darkening. “This whole protocol du jour thing’s really creeping my cheese.” 

Alex made a questioning noise at the phrase, and Sam asked, “So we got dick on Dick?” 

“That’s a vivid way of putting it.” Dean rolled his eyes, but turned his attention to the newspaper in his brother’s hand. “You find anything on Wonder Woman?” 

“No, and there probably won’t be.” Sam didn’t sound disappointed; then again, they all knew They are definitely gone. But . . .” Sam turned the newspaper to the fifth page and held it up, “I might have found something in Kansas.” 

“Alright, well, let’s do it. But, uh, a few simple rules, okay? No babies.” Sam and Alex grinned at those words, but Dean wasn’t done. “In fact, no baby mamas. No bars. No booze — no hot chicks of any kind.” Dean walked past them to get into a second, older car.

“Wait wait wait.” Sam turned to watch him go in amused disbelief. “Did you just say —”

“Hey. _You_ spawn a monster baby, see how quick _you_ want to dive back in that pool.” Dean opened the car door before pausing. “Pip. Who you with?” 

Alex looked between the two cars and then jumped off of the Jeep. “I like your music better,” she said simply, circling around to get to the passenger side of Dean’s gold Charger. Dean grunted in agreement, and Alex didn’t miss the smug look that was thrown at Sam. With a roll of her eyes, she got into the car. 

 

 **“O** h.”

They were at the morgue, examining the victim from the newspaper, and Alex wasn’t fully sure what to make of what lay in front of them. “That’s . . .”

“Those are not the fun kinds of hickeys,” Dean finished, and Alex grunted in agreement. The victim was male, and large, raised, red welts zigzagged across his body in a distinctly linear fashion. One large band lay right across his chest and shoulders, the welt about the size of Alex’s palm. The marks were eerily familiar, but the angel couldn’t bring herself to admit to what they were. 

“You’re — you’re saying an _octopus_ did this?” Sam sounded just as shocked as Alex felt. 

“Not just any octopus,” the coroner corrected, picking up his white clipboard. “Based on welt diameter, _enteroctopus dofleini_.” 

Alex looked confused, and Dean asked, “And for those of us who skipped enteroctopus class?” 

“Giant Pacific Octopus.” The coroner explained, eyebrow cocked as he waited to see the three agents’ reactions. 

Dean blinked in surprise before he asked, “Um, how giant we talking, Doc?”

“Approximately thirty feet.”

Alex stared down at the body in disbelief before slowly shaking her head. Beside her, Sam let out a short laugh. “I mean, aren’t . . . giant octopi rare around here?” 

The man nodded before adding, “Yet here we are.” 

“Alright, so what happened? Guy comes home, cracks a beer, gets . . . suckered to death?” Dean motioned a hand toward the corpse for emphasis, and Alex raised an eyebrow, trying but failing to picture the scene in her mind. 

“Obviously this was some type of freak fetish attack.” The coroner said like it was obvious. He reached out, hands coming to rest on the man’s face, and pointed at the red welts. “Someone created those hickey marks, and then bled the man out.” He tilted the head away from them, exposing a large, jagged wound just below the man’s left ear. 

Dean grunted. “Huh.” The coroner turned away from them, and the Winchester led the way towards the exit, Sam and Alex close behind. “That bite look a little vampy to you?” he asked as soon as they stepped out of the room. 

“Yeah, no question.”

“So what are we looking for? An octovamp?” Dean grinned at his mashup. “A vamptopus?”

“Or it could just be a really kinky vamp,” Alex offered with a small shrug, quickening her step to walk beside Sam down the hallway. “I-I mean, unless you _really_ think we’ve got a giant octopus — or vampto-whatever running rampant.” 

“Yeah, that’s crazy, even for us,” Sam quickly agreed. “Right?” 

“It does push the envelope. Let’s go chat up the widow.” Dean pushed his way out of the building and crossed the parking lot to get into the Charger. Alex followed, leaving Sam to get into his Jeep. Dean turned on the car, and Styx blasted through the speakers. 

 

 **T** hey reached the widow’s house in ten minutes, and Alex got out of the car, leaning against the side while they waited for Sam to appear. “Hey.” Dean looked over the roof of the car, and Alex tipped her head to meet his gaze. “Why don’t you circle around the neighborhood?” he suggested. “See if you can pick up anything on those angel sense of yours, huh? Me and Sam can handle this.”

“Yeah, sounds good.” Alex nodded and slid back into the car, kicking off her dress shoes and pulling on her boots. She shrugged off her suit jacket and white button up before digging through her bag to pull on a grey t-shirt. Shen she crawled back out of the car, smoothing down her new clothes in an attempt to be inconspicuous. After all, nothing caught people’s attention like the sharp-dressed.

She slipped down the sidewalk as a familiar Jeep approached, She waved at it, a grin on her face, and it pulled over, passenger-side window lowering. “Uh . . . what are you doing?” 

“Taking a spin around the block.” Alex twirled her finger twice for emphasis. “You and Dean can handle the widow by yourselves. I’m gonna search the neighborhood. See if I can pick up anything strange.”

Sam nodded. “Sounds like a good idea,” he agreed. “See you in a bit.” 

“Yup.” The Jeep drove away, and Alex continued down the stray. She shoved her hands into her dress pants casually, eyes daring along the rows of neatly trimmed hedges and clean houses. Children played in the driveway across the road, and the young angel’s wings twitched at the sight of a two year old boy toddling across the grass. She pushed the strange feeling away, attention turning elsewhere. She wasn’t good with kids. Kids were weird. 

 

 **B** y the time she had circled back to the house, Sam and Dean were halfway down the walk, heads bent in conversation. Alex quickened her step to meet up with them, and their voices became audible. “What, how did wife-lady summon an octovamp?” Dean asking, a look of concentration on his face as he hurried down the stairs. 

“More like ‘why?’ Kind of impractical, right?” When Alex made a noise of agreement Sam looked up, hazel eyes flashing in recognition. 

Dean only looked up when Sam knocked him in the side, but he flashed Alex a small smile as they reached the car. “Yeah, alright,” he continued, barely pausing in the original conversation, “one of us needs to go talk to the naughty nanny.” Dean circled around to stand beside the Charger while adding, “The other one stays here, shake down the place and when the wife leaves — see what we’re dealing with.” 

“Alright,” Sam agreed. “I’m on the nanny.” 

“ _I’m_ on the nanny.” Dean opened the car door, an eyebrow cocked as he waited for the protest that was sure to follow. 

Sam stopped with a frown. “I thought you said no hot chicks.”. 

“We don’t know she’s hot.” Dean reminded, and, having won, got into the car. “Alex stay here,” came the order before the car door shut, and Alex looked up at Sam, shaking her head. Smooth, Dean. 

The car drove away, and Alex glanced towards the house. “So, what’d I miss?” 

“Not much.” Sam cast a quick glance back towards the house. “There was nothing wrong reported with the house, no sulphur, no cold spots. Although the wife seems to think something's going on between her husband and the nanny, but, uh, maybe you caught that.” 

“Yeah, kind of did.” Alex followed Sam across the street to the Jeep and got into the passenger side. “Well, there’s nothing strange in the neighborhood. Everything feels normal, although I think the house at the end of the block’s got a demon in the basement.” She ignored Sam’s noise of surprise. “I didn’t feel too closely though. Figured if there’s demons here, let them be, you know? Cause whatever we’re dealing with, it sure as hell ain’t one of them.” 

“Seriously?” Sam looked over at her, brow furrowing slightly as he tried to determine if she was lying. “You’re sure it was a demon.”

“It’ll probably clear out pretty soon,” Alex added defensively, frowning slightly. “Once they, you know, figure out we’re in town. After all, Crowley’s put out a couple mile restraining order on us, remember?” 

Sam didn’t seem all that convinced. “But if this thing’s the demon . . .”

“Then it’ll be the weirdest demon attack I’ve _ever_ seen. Come on, man.” Alex poked the Winchester in the arm for emphasis. “Demon are pretty specific with their killing, and it never includes pacific octopi, am I right? This whole thing has witchy written all over it.”

Sam didn’t protest, and the car fell silent. 

 

 **S** am’s phone rang, and Alex jumped slightly in surprise. She had been so invested in watching the young girl — the victim’s daughter, apparently, and probably only about eight — doodle on the sidewalk with chalk that she had completely forgotten about what they were doing. Sam hurried to answer it. “Dean?” Then, “What? Hold on.” He put the phone on speaker and held it in between him and Alex.

“I said we talked to the wrong person,” Dean repeated, voice shaky with static. “Forget the mom. Talk to the daughter. She’s mad at her dad for ditching her birthday.”

Sam looked over at Alex, who shrugged; she didn’t know the answer. “So, what do you think?” Sam finally asked. “A birthday wish gone wrong, something like that?” 

Alex snorted in disbelief, rolling her eyes. “Yeah. Cause every child’s wish is for a giant octopus,” she retorted. 

“Well, we’ve got a 20 on her right now,” Sam told his brother, ignoring Alex’s statement. 

“Can you get her without tripping the AMBER alert?”

Alex looked over at Sam. “I can talk to the kid,” she suggested. “I’m probably a little less, you know, threatening, don’t you think?” 

Sam nodded, and Dean vocally agreed. “Alright. See what you can find out.” He hung up, and Alex reached for the door handle. 

She took a deep breath to center herself before she hurried across the street towards where the young girl was sitting on the sidewalk. “Hi,” she called as she reached the curb. She waited until the kid looked up before approaching. “I’m Alex. I’m with the two men who came here earlier, okay?” She crouched down and fished out her fake ID, watching as the apprehension faded in the child’s eyes. “What’s your name?”

“Kelly.” The girl went back to her drawing, obviously not all that concerned about the stranger in front of her, and Alex nodded when she added, “I’m not suppose to talk to you.” 

“It’s okay,” the young angel promised. “I’m with the police. It’s okay to talk to me.” 

“No, it’s not that.” Kelly shook her head, still not looking up. “Mommy said I’m not allowed to talk with you because of what I told the police.” 

“Kelly?” Alex heard a woman’s voice from inside the house, and Kelly looked. 

“What did you tell the police?” Alex persisted, wanting to get an answer before the mother found her talking to her daughter. 

“I told them I tried to warn my dad.” The brunette’s voice grew serious. “That the monster would get him.” 

The front door opened, and both looked up to see a woman in her thirties, a dark scowl across her face. “Kelly. Come here. Now!” When the daughter hesitated, she repeated, “Kelly!” Kelly jumped to her feet, dropping her chalk as she ran to her mother, and the scowl was turned to Alex as they went inside.

The angel got to her feet, frowning as they disappeared. The chalk rolled, bumping into her shoe, and she looked down before pausing. “Oh.” Alex circled around the drawing, fishing her phone out of her pocket to snap a picture of the large, white drawing. Eight arms stretched from a round head with a gaping mouth with sharp, pointed teeth. “Interesting.” She heard movement from inside the house, and Alex hurried away. 

She jumped back into the van, holding out her cellphone so Sam could see her discovery. “Here,” she prompted. “Look familiar? And guess what. The kid told me she tried to warn her dad that ‘the monster would get him.’ ” She raised her eyebrows, letting the Winchester connect the dots. “I’m starting to think there was an actual octopus here.” 

The Winchester’s face furrowed in confusion. “That’s . . . weird.”

“Yeah.” Alex turned in her seat so she was facing straight ahead. “Let’s go back to the motel, huh? I don’t think that mother likes me very much.” She reached for her seat belt as the Jeep drove off down the street. 

 

 **“T** his is creepy.” Alex followed Dean into the motel room, fingers tightening inadvertently around the paper bag that held her meal. “I mean, it’s a little cool, but it’s also really creepy.” Her eyes darted from the floor-to-ceiling tiki head that stood behind the bar directly ahead of her to the smaller, lighter tiki head on the nightstand between the two small beds. Her attention was immediately drawn back to the large tiki head, however, when Dean flipped on the lights, and a red light emanated from the mouth and temples. “Wow. It’s possessed.” 

Sam set his food down on the table by the door. “I kind of like it,” he admitted, dropping his duffle bag onto the floor. 

Alex set her meal on the bar before wandering over to the beds. “They’re a little small,” she frowned. “I guess I’m rooming with Dean.” When Sam let out a noise of amusement, she retorted, “You take up _way_ too much space, dude. Even in a decent size bed you still somehow manage to take up the entire thing.” She returned to the bar and sat down on the stool, casting a wary glance at the giant statue. “Great,” she muttered. “The last thing I need is to feel like I’m being watched _all_ the time.” 

She heard a chuckle and shot a glare towards Sam, gaze sliding over to Lucifer who sat beside him. Sam dug his thumb into his palm and the devil disappeared, leaving Alex to flick her wings in distaste. _Good riddance._

Dean returned with the beaten green and white cooler, setting it beside the bar and pulling out a beer. “It’s kind of cool,” he defended. “And there’s no mold anywhere.” 

“Touché. Mm!” Alex dug her phone of her her pocket. “Oh yeah. We were gonna show you this, but,you know, food is distracting.” She unlocked the screen and slid it over to the hunter. “The kid was drawing that on the sidewalk. Said that’s what got her dad.”

“That’s an octopus.” Dean glanced over at his brother in confusion before cracking open his drink. “So . . .”

“So I don’t know,” Alex finished. “I mean, I’ve never heard of a monster octopus killing people in Kansas, you know? Shapeshifter — can they even shift into non-human things? Either that or a witch.”

“Or . . . we’re dealing with an actual monster octopus,” Dean finished. “Great.” 

“Yup.” Alex fished her hamburger out of her bag, almost letting out a squeak of surprise when she looked up to see Lucifer sitting cross legged on the bar to her left, leaning against the stone wall. He raised an eyebrow at her reaction, a smirk playing on her lips, and she turned her body away slightly, reaching to pull out her curly fries. She slowly reached out her with her grace, but felt nothing there. 

Lucifer, however, noticed. “Can I help you?” 

“Sam.” Alex caught the Winchester’s attention, head nodding to her left towards the devil. 

The hunter, however, just looked confused. “What?” 

“Did I mention he can’t see me?” The devil’s thin lips twisted upwards in amusement. “Ten feet, _Enaiish_.” Lucifer adjusted his position so his legs were stretched out, and out of instinct Alex reached out to smack his feet away. Her hand passed through him however, and she almost knocked over the beer Dean had placed there for her. 

“Whoa." Dean reached out to steady it. “What was that?” 

“Fly,” Alex grumbled, wings twitching as Lucifer smirked. “I’m fine.” She shifted her food and drink away from Lucifer’s feet. Sam and Dean didn’t push her, and they fell into silence. 

 

 **A** sharp pain woke Alex up, and she let out a gasp, bolting up straight to see Dean Winchester standing above her, tying his tie. “Get up. New corpse just showed up.” 

“That was my _ass_ , you butthole.” 

“Good. Now get it up out of bed and get dressed.” Dean walked away, leaving Alex to throw back the sheets with a mumbled protest. “If you had gotten up earlier you could have gone with Sam down to the police station,” the hunter reminded, “but we let you sleep. So stop complaining and let’s get going.”

“Why’d he go down there?” the young angel asked, wings flicking curiously. She disappeared into the bathroom to brush her teeth as Dean walked over to the table. 

“Went to get the little girl’s report to the police,” she heard him respond. “Maybe there was something more she didn’t mention to you, you know? Hurry up.”

“I’m going as fast as I can,” Alex mumbled, shoving the toothbrush into her mouth. Once she was done, she hurried back into the main room, shucking off her over-sized tee in exchange for the oxford that was laying neatly across the bar. “What do we know about this new vic?” she questioned, wanting to keep a conversation going. “Did he get suckered too?” 

“Nope.” Dean didn’t look up from where he was pawing through the remains of last night’s dinner. “They weren’t too specific on the phone; something about him being impaled. No one knows by what.” With a disappointed grunt, he dropped the brown paper bag back onto the table. “How does coffee sound? With some donuts.”

“Sounds amazing.” Alex threaded the belt through the loops on her dress pants before grabbing her socks and shoes. Then she paused. “Where’s . . .” She hurried over to Dean’s bag. “Ah screw it,” she muttered grabbing his navy tie. “Let’s go.” 

 

 **T** wenty minutes later Alex followed Dean across the dew-wet grass, fingers toying with the tie that hung slightly loose around her neck. “I look good in a tie,” she muttered to herself, as they walked up alongside an ambulance, allowing her to catch a quick glance of her in the mirror. 

“Agents.” A police officer walked up to them, extending a hand which Dean took. “Glad you can make it.”

“So what’ve we got?” Dean looked around, and Alex did the same, gaze fixing on the sheet-covered body beneath a chainlink fence lined with plywood. A large, blood hole about the size of her fist was in the middle, right about chest height. 

“To be honest we’re not really sure. Officer’s found hoof prints on the other side of the fence, but that’s all we know. It looks like our vic was being chased by it, and then scaled the fence before . . . I have my boys back there looking for evidence.” 

The body was hoisted up onto the wheeled-stretcher, and Alex followed Dean over to the bloodied fence. The hunter stooped slightly, peering through the large hole. “Uh . . . okay, so the horse I get. The hoof prints, the jumping over the fence. But, uh, what ran him through?” 

The officer shrugged. “Best I can tell you is something _big_.”

“Like a lance?” Dean suggested, straightening up. 

Alex saw the policeman shrug once again, truly at a loss, and then her gaze flitted past to see where the paramedics were loading the body into the back of the ambulance. A woman stood by the open doors, a hand over her mouth and even from that distance Alex could see the pain and grief on her face. The officer followed her gaze. “It’s sad,” he finally said. Lady’s gotta pull her freaking eight year old out of school and tell him his dad’s dead.”

“Excuse me.” Dean hurried towards the woman, who had turned to walk away, and Alex followed, not sure what was going on. “Excuse me, ma’am?” Dean pulled his badge out of his suit pocket, and Alex quickly did the same. “Agent Smith and Jones.” He motioned to Alex and himself in turn. “FBI.”

“I'm sorry.” The woman took a step back, moving to leave. “I — I really need to go.”

“Okay. Uh, just one quick question, if you don’t mind.” When the woman turned back to them Dean asked, “Umm, was yesterday your son’s birthday?” 

_What?_ Alex looked up at Dean in confusion, her expression mimicking the one forming on the woman’s face. “B-Billy’s birthday?” she repeated. “No. Why would you ask that?” 

“Nothing.” Dean shook his head. “Never mind.”

The woman turned to go, but after only a step turned back as a thought struck her. “Oh. But . . . his father did take him to a friend’s birthday party yesterday.” With that, she walked away.

Alex looked up at Dean, who’s eyes were alight. “His birthday?” she asked. “What’s that got to do with anything?” 

“Because Kelly went to a birthday party yesterday,” Dean explained, reaching for his phone. He started walking away from the ambulance, and Alex followed, watching as he dialed Sam’s number. “Sam. You remember a chain called Plucky Pennywhistles?” He glanced down at Alex, pressing the phone into his shoulder. “Go see what you can find out from the paramedics before they leave,” he instructed, and Alex nodded as he turned back to his phone. “Really? Could have sworn you loved those places.” 

Alex hurried towards the back of the ambulance, where the two paramedics were in the process of closing the door. “Uh, one second.” She dug her ID out of her pants pocket and held it up. “Agent Smith. Sorry. What’d you find?” 

The first paramedic, an older man with thinning brown hair, shrugged. “Can’t say much without an autopsy,” he told her, glancing towards his younger companion who nodded in consensus. “The man was clearly impaled, but we don’t know by what. But whatever it was, it had enough strength and force to make it all the way through both sides of the ribs without shattering. That’s really all we know.”

“Huh.” Alex waited a second of two, and when they said nothing else she nodded. “Okay. Well, thanks.” She stuck her hands in her pockets and walked back over to Dean, who was still on the phone. 

“I’m just saying I hit a dead end with this whole wishes-gone-wild thing, but both kids were at Plucky’s day of. Look. Why don’t you go check out the local Plucky’s and ask about this Billy kid.” After a pause he adamantly shook his head. “No can do, _hermano_. I’m on my way to talk to little Billy.” Whatever Sam said next made a grin break out across his brother’s face, and he laughed. “Wait wait wait. This isn’t about your, uh, your clown thing, is it?” Alex heard Sam protest through the other end. “Sammy.” The youngest Winchester still protested, and Dean looked down at Alex, the corners of his lip pulled upwards in a smirk. “Yeah, what in the world did they do to you? Alright, you know what? Never mind. Just know that 99.99% of all clowns can’t hurt you. Okay? And if it bleeds, you can kill it.”

He hung up, and Alex shook her head in amusement. “You know that’s a lie, right? About all clowns being harmless?” She shook her head again, this time with more force. “All clowns are cold-blooded killing machines. Scientific fact, dude.” 

Dean rolled his eyes. “Right. You sound like Sam.” 

“Well us sane people got to stick together.” Alex followed him over to the gold Charger. “Listen. Why don’t you drop me off at Plucky’s. Maybe — maybe I can hold Sam’s hand, okay? Make sure he actually gets the job done. You don’t need both of us to talk to an eight year old.”

“Sounds like a good idea.” The Charger grumbled to life, and they drove away. 

 

 **A** lex made her way up alongside the very-familiar monotone Jeep, rapping on the window. She laughed as Sam jumped in alarm, and he opened up the door to say, “Hey! I — what are you doing here?” 

“Dean dropped me off. I’m suppose to hold your hand so you don’t chicken out.” The young angel threw in a grin so the Winchester knew she was joking before stepping back to allow him enough room to get out of the vehicle. “What were you doing?” She watched as Lucifer appeared, leaning against the car directly behind Alex.

“Nothing.” Sam’s eyes swept over her before returning to her face. “You’re wearing a tie.” 

“Mm.” Alex reached up to fiddle with the knot. “I know, right? I look good in a tie.” 

The devil behind her hummed in accession. “You’d look better with it around your wrists,” he quipped, and Alex couldn’t help the dark blush that spread across her face at his words. 

Sam made a small awkward noise, and that only deepened Alex’s blush as she realized that Lucifer hadn’t just been projecting herself into her own mind. Her anger flared up, good mood lost, and she wanted to spin around and snap, but she took a deep breath, quelling it. “Ignore him; he’s just looking for a rise out of me. Come on, let’s go.” 

She led the way up to the painfully colorful building. Above a yellow awning read the words, “Where All Your Dreams Are Good!” and the young angel rolled her eyes. 

Inside the store wasn’t any better. It was packed with tables, chairs, and an array of rides, games, and funhouses. Alex’s gaze was immediately drawn to a giant clown's head slightly off to their right, and her wings instinctively lifted as she sized it up. Immediately realizing what she was doing, however, she forced her wings flat against her back, turning her attentions elsewhere. 

“Welcome to Plucky Pennywhistles!” a mechanical voice chirred, immediately following its word by a cheerful laugh. Alex glared over at the life-size mechanical clown, it’s jaw moving as it spoke and its eyes literally alight with a red glow. 

“Oh, that’s just not right.” Alex nudged Sam and pointed to it, feeling the way he stiffened. “I mean, that — that’s just _wrong_. Screw whatever the hell we’re dealing with. I’m taking _that_ down.” Behind her Lucifer chuckled, but Alex pointedly ignored him.

Sam dug his hand into his palm and hurried past it. Alex followed, shooting it a wary glance as they walked up to the front counter. “Welcome to Plucky’s!” the man there announced cheerily. “Where all your dreams are good.” 

Alex ran an eye over him. He was wearing the same uniform as every other worker; white button down, yellow bowtie, and an obnoxious rainbow vest with yellow buttons. His name tag read _Howard_. Alex pitied Howard. 

“Could you just, uh, maybe get the manager for me?” Sam quickly pulled out his FBI badge, and Howard nodded and walked away. “Okay.” Sam walked further into the building, and Alex followed. “Feel anything?”

“Uh, hang on.” Alex paused and pushed out her grace through the building, not exactly sure what she what she was searching for. However, she dutifully probed every nook and cranny, every bathroom and janitorial closet, even extending her grace down into the basement. In less than three seconds she was done, and reeled it all back in. “Nothing. I mean, if I knew what I was looking for . . .” She looked around the room with her eyes. “I don’t like it here,” she finally said, changing the topic. “I mean, I get that some people somehow like clowns, but . . .” Her gaze focused on a man in a lion suit posing for a picture. “This place just stinks of sweat and vomit, you know?” 

“Trust me, I know.” Sam turned to look at the wall behind him, and Alex did the same, interest peaked. What looked like placemats hung there, each drawn with crayon, and each with a name tag below. 

“Real beauties, huh?” A woman walked up to them; same attire as the other employees, minus the rainbow vest. Her long dark hair and eyes led Alex to guess Asian heritage on one side of the family, although it was impossible to tell. “We rotate them out once a week,” she continued. “Kids love having their art on the wall.” 

“ ‘Draw your worst fear?’ ” Sam read the caption on the placemats, voice rising in amusement and disbelief.

“I know,” the woman agreed with a drawn-out nod. “But we don’t post the truly evil stuff — just the standard crap like sharks and ghosts.” The woman held out her hand. “Jean Holiday. Shift manager.” 

“Johnson, FBI.” Sam shook it.

“Smith,” Alex added, shaking the woman’s hand as well. “Also FBI.”

“So, uh, tell me,” Sam began, turning back to the placemats. “Why even ask kids to draw creepy stuff to begin with?” 

“It’s an exercise some pop psychologist came up with.” Jean’s tone made it clear she wasn’t buying into its authenticity. “Plus, the owner’s obsessed with ‘aiding child development.’ So, the place mat is a way to get kids to talk about their fears. You know, we get them to sketch it in the little box and — voila — Plucky magically transforms it into rainbows and candy.” Her voice lowered. “Personally I think it’s a load of hooey, but they say that if these fears run wild, it can affect kids long into their adulthood.” 

A man dressed up as a clown came up to them, laughing as he passed in between. Alex stepped back as the clown slipped by Sam, and the hunter recoiled uncomfortably. “I’ve heard that,” the young angel agreed, eyeing the hunter next to her. 

“Yeah, uh, me — me too.” Sam cleared his throat as the clown disappeared around the corner. “Um . . . so, I — I don’t know if you’ll remember, but there was a — a kid in here yesterday named Billy Prague for a party?” 

“Oh, the conniption kid.” Jean nodded with a small grimace.

“Conniption?” Alex repeated, wings twitching in confusion. “Did he —”

“No no no, not him.” Jean quickly shook her head. “He was fine. It was his dad. He pulls the kid away before cake and presents, and I guessed the kid asked to stay for another five minutes. The dad pulls a full-frontal _douchebag_ , starts screaming. Just embarrassed for the kid.” 

“Huh.” Sam looked down at Alex, who echoed the Winchester’s intrigued noise.

“Yeah.” Jean looked past them before her gaze flickered back up to Sam’s face. “Anything else you need? Otherwise I should probably get back to my job.”

“No, yeah, that’s fine. I, uh — we’ll just take a quick look around then we’ll be on our way.” Sam watched as Jean walked away before turning back to the wall. “Hey. Check it out.” He pointed to two empty slots on the wall. They read _Billy Prague_ and _Kelly Harper._

“Well, I doubt _that’s_ a coincidence.” Alex looked around. “Okay, so whatever we’re dealing with is definitely connected to this place. Great.” 

“Yeah.” Sam started walking away, digging his phone out of his pocket, and Alex hurried to catch up, lengthening her stride to match his.

“Psst.” A large, balding man in a janitorial uniform caught their attention and slowed them to a halt. “You a cop?” he whispered, eyes darting warily around the room. 

“Uh, yeah.” Sam slowly walked over to him, motioning for Alex to follow with a small wave of his hand. “We’re Feds.”

“Huh.” The janitor kept his voice low. “What are you investigating?” 

“Couple of crazy deaths.” Sam glanced down at Alex momentarily before looking back up at the man. “Why, is there something you want to share?” 

“Look — not now.” The janitor warily looked around. “Too many eyes. Come back after closing.” He hurried away, pulling his trolley of cleaning supplies behind him, and Alex and Sam exchanged looks. Interesting.

 

 **D** ean was back at the motel by the time they arrived, as evident by the gold Charger parked haphazardly in front of their door. Sam pulled up beside it, and Alex squeezed out of the Jeep before jumping onto the Charger’s hood and sliding down to get out. She pushed the door open and stepped inside to find Dean at the bar, unloading a white paper bag with Chinese food. Chopsticks sat across each small paper box, and Alex crossed the room to join him. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Dean looked up at her before glancing at his brother. “So what’s the lowdown on trauma town?” When Sam made a face the hunter laughed, eyes crinkling slightly. 

“I can tell you this much,” Sam finally said. “Neither vic was up from parent of the year. Kelly’s dad skipped her birthday, and Billy’s dad pulled one of those dick parent scenes that makes everyone cringe.” He walked past Dean and set some of the placemats from Plucky’s in front of his brother before going further into the room,

“What the hell are these?” Dean slid Alex’s food over to her before picking up the sheets of paper. 

“Kid therapy. Um, you draw your worst nightmare — poof! — Plucky fixes it. Um, they hand them up on this big wall.” Sam stopped by his bed and pulled of his grey suit coat before loosening his tie. 

“Well, I have to agree with this.” Dean held up one of the placemats so Alex could see. “Leprechauns _are_ deadly.” Both Sam and Alex snorted in amusement, and Alex opened her takeout box to find chicken and rice. She frowned, and Dean wordlessly slid the box containing the egg rolls over to her before continuing. “Okay, so, Kelly draws a monster, and then that goes after her father? That’s what we’re saying?” 

“Well, here’s the thing. They label those. And guess which two were missing — well, name tag was there. No placemat.” 

“Little Miss Octovamp,” Dean guessed, shuffling through the rest of the placemats.

“Yeah. And . . .” 

“Billy.”

“So basically whatever he drew somehow came to life and jumped off of the pages before impaling his dad,” Alex finished, sliding a piece of an egg roll into her mouth with a grin. Sam took his food and sat down at the table beneath the window. “A knight, maybe?” she continued, head cocked as she took a guess. “With a lance?”

Dean just shook his head. “Close, but no Seabiscuit. See, I went and had a little chat with Billy. And he drew me this.” Dean pulled a piece of paper out of his jacket pocket and unfolded it so both Sam and Alex could see. 

The young angel’s head tipped as she saw the childish drawing of a grey horse, complete with a rainbow tail and a long, angry horn from its forehead that seemed to be impaling a man. “A unicorn?” She snorted in disbelief. “No way.”

Sam got up and took the picture for himself. “Wait. So now unicorns are evil?” 

“Yeah,” Dean scoffed. “Obviously.” He pulled the chopsticks out of his takeout box before quickly opening it up. 

“Great.” Sam put the drawing back down on the bar. “Well, now the question is, how did a unicorn come off a sketch and kill Billy’s dad? How’s any of this happening?”

Dean shrugged, and Alex swallowed down a mouthful of rice before adding, “But this janitor guy at Plucky’s might have a lead. We’re suppose to meet him after the place closes down tonight.” She shrugged, nudging at a piece of chicken with her chopsticks. “I don’t know if it’ll help, but it’s worth a shot.”

 

 **A** dmittedly, Alex shouldn’t have been surprised when they got the call of another strange death. Nor should she have been shocked when they arrived at Plucky Pennywhistle’s Magical Menagerie as the EMTs were wheeling a sheet-covered body out of the back doors. She was, however, confused when Dean asked them to pause, reaching down to pull back the bloodied sheet. “Oh.” Alex looked up at the Winchester beside her. “That’s uh . . .”

Dean grunted in agreement and lowered the sheet just as Sam walked back up to them. Alex glanced behind him to see Jean Holiday. “So?”

“The manager found the body in the ball pit,” Sam explained. “Blood everywhere.”

Alex made a noise of surprise, and Dean asked, “Cops have a theory?” 

Sam nodded and stuck his hands in his pockets, glancing around before he explained, “Yeah, they think the ball washer did it.” 

“The what?” 

“The . . . ball washer.” 

Dean’s grin grew. “The what?” he repeated. 

“The ball —” Sam cut off, arms rising and falling in pure exasperation as he realized what his brother was doing. Alex, however, just snickered, mumbling “ball washer” under her breath. 

“Look at this.” Dean lifted up the sheet over the janitor’s body so Sam could see the large puncture wounds and gaping holes where flesh should have been. Out of the corner of her eye Alex saw Sam raised his eyebrows in surprise, inhaling sharply at the sight, and then Dean lowered the sheet once again. “Thank you gentlemen.” The EMTs rolled the body away, and Dean turned to look up at his brother. “That’s a shark bite.”

“Yeah.”

“And,” Dean continued confidently, “judging by the radius, I’d say 20 footer.”

“At the very least. Easily bigger,” Alex added with a glance up towards Sam.

The youngest Winchester looked between the both of them, clearly skeptical of their guess, and Dean shook his head. “ ‘Shark Week,’ man. How do you not watch that?” Sam walked away, and Dean watched him go, shaking his head and muttering, “Whole week of sharks.”

“I love shark week,” Alex agreed. “Sharks are awesome.” She hurried after Sam when he waved them over, and she stopped by the gold Charger in confusion. “We going back to the motel?” she asked quizzically. “We just got here.”

“Here.” Sam reached into the trunk and handed her a flashlight. “We’re gonna take a quick look around first.” He handed her a second before adding, “Give that to Dean.”

Alex did as he instructed, taking five steps across the parking lot before she met the Winchester. “Here. I guess we’re going to go inside first.” She led the way through the open doors and into the building, flicking on her flashlight before remembering that she could see perfectly well in the dark. Two beams of light flicked on behind her as the Winchesters entered as well, and she hesitated to let Sam and Dean take the lead. 

Sam led the way around a large play area to reach the wall of place mats. “Omar Cooper,” he read, flashlight focusing on where a name tag hung without a picture. “How much you want to be little Omar here was scared of sharks?” 

Dean looked around the place. “Saul the janitor is connected how? I mean, he’s not related to Omar, right?” The beam of his flashlight flickered over the jungle gym in front of them, and Alex let out a huff of air through her nose at the stench.

“No,” Sam moved past them, taking the lead. “But Saul wanted to tell me something.” He paused when Dean and Alex didn’t follow, turning back and darting his light over their faces before dropping it to their feet.

“So this isn’t about ganking some dickweed parent,” Dean concluded, green eyes darkening.

The other Winchester shook his head. “More like, uh, silencing a whistle-blower?” 

“Great, so whatever we’re looking for can literally fire off childhood fears at will. Wow.” With a muttered Dean added, “Watch out for evil lunch ladies.” 

Alex made a questioning noise, not understanding his obscure reference, but shrugged it off. “I don’t feel anything weird.” Sam grabbed his EMF detector out of his pocket, and Alex added quickly, “But I’m not super good with electromagnetic fields, so . . .”

Sam nodded. “Alright. Let’s comb the place.” He walked off to the left, leaving Alex and Dean standing there. 

With a shrug the angel moved off straight ahead, grinning to herself as she heard Dean mutter to himself, “Seriously. Dractopus. Seabiscuit the Impaler. Land shark. What’s next?” 

 

 **I** t didn’t take long to search the entire building, and when nothing turned up, Dean drove the back to the motel. Alex rushed into the room to grab the shower before either of the Winchesters could, and when she came back out half an hour later, they were both sitting at the table, Sam on his laptop, Dean with his nose buried in his father’s journal. 

“Maybe . . . a Tulpa?” Sam was suggesting half-heartedly.

Dean barely looked up from his book. “No,” he decided, “killings are too spread out.” 

“True. Um . . . angel?” 

“It’s a little imaginative for the God squad, don’t you think?” 

Alex snorted in agreement, and both Winchesters looked up in surprise; Sam even looked a little guilty as he realized she had heard. Alex ignored it. “It’s also not our MO,” she reminded. “I mean, octo-vampires and unicorns? Please. We could snap our fingers and they’d all die.” She finished toweling off her hair and tossed it across the bar. “I’d put my bet on witches, you know?”

“Yeah, maybe. I don’t know.” Dean closed the journal, leaning back in his chair. “I’m tapped out.” He grabbed his coffee mug and took a long swig. 

“Well, whatever it is, at least we know where it is.”

“Plucky’s!” Dean agreed, forced excitement raising his voice. 

“That’s where the victims are getting picked,” the youngest Winchester agreed as he closed his laptop and leaned back in his chair.

Dean shook his head. “Yeah, but we swept the place and nada.”

“I can go back tomorrow,” Sam eventually suggested after a small pause. “Go to the employees, maybe dig up some dirt.” 

Dean shook his head. “What good’s that gonna do?” he scoffed. “They think you’re a Fed. The one who’s was gonna rat, he got Bruce’d. If anybody know anything, they’re not gonna tell you.”

“Alright.” Sam clapped his hands, leaning back. “Yep, that’s the plan.” He pushed back his chair and then got up. “I’ll go back, play bad cop, really lean into them.”

He walked towards the beds and Dean added, “And . . ?”

Sam paused, glancing back at his brother. “And when I’m done, you two watch them.” He motioned at both his brother and Alex before moving towards his bag.

“So if somebody freaks out, then that’s our creep.” Dean nodded in agreement, and Alex did the same; that made sense. 

“Or he’ll lead us closer, and you can track him.”

“Well, what’s my cover?” Dean looked up at Alex, and she shrugged, reaching up to tuck a strand of wet, blonde hair behind her ear. 

“I don’t know.” Sam grabbed his sweatpants and a dark t-shirt out of his backpack before he looked back up. “Just hang back. Act normal.” He walked into the bathroom and closed the door, and Alex sat down on the near bed.

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean muttered. “Guy in his thirties hanging out at Plucky’s alone — that’s normal. That’s not pervy at all.” He got up and shrugged off his jacket, tossing it onto the ground by his things before running a hand down the side of his face. “Heading to bed already?” 

“It’s like three in the morning,” Alex retorted lightly, sliding under the covers as Dean tugged off his black shirt. When Dean just shrugged she rolled over, burying her head into the cheap, starchy pillowcase. “Just turned the light off when you’re done.”

 

 **W** hen Alex awoke the room was bright with sunlight. She felt someone at her back, a nose pushed into her neck and an arm draped across her waist, and the angel squeezed her eyes shut, wriggling back into the warmth and burying her head deep inside her pillow. “Dean,” she mumbled as the hand tightened around her waist. “Let go of me, you ass. I can’t breathe.”

She heard a laugh, and the angel reluctantly opened her eyes to see Sam sitting on the bed across from them, laptop on his lap and feet crossed at the ankles. 

“Not funny,” she mumbled, trying to pry Dean’s arm away. The movement was enough to wake up the Winchester, who retaliated by shoving her away, and Alex almost fell out of the bed with a startled noise. 

“Not funny,” she repeated, tugging the blankets closer as she looked over at the clock. “Dude. It’s almost two in the afternoon.” 

“What?” 

“Yeah.” The young angel threw back the covers and swung her legs out of bed. “Eleven hours? It feels like five.” She rubbed her eyes as Dean rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. “How long have you been up?” she asked Sam. 

“Couple hours,” the hunter shrugged, turning his gaze back to his laptop as he typed a few short words. “Three or four. Thought I’d let you guys sleep in, seeing as I don’t know when we’ll get to do that next, right?”

“Yeah. I, uh, I know what you mean.” The young angel rolled back her shoulders, stretching her wings out as far as they would go. “So what’s the plan? Lunch and then Plucky’s?” When Sam nodded in consensus she stood up. “I guess I’ll go get dressed then.”

 

 **A** hour or so later found Alex sitting at one of the tabled in the center of Plucky Pennywhistle’s Magical Menagerie, Dean at her side. Children ran and played all around them, and Alex’s wings twitched awkwardly. She watched as Sam followed Jean towards the back before looking at Dean. “So . . .”

The hunter’s green gaze swung over to hers. “So,” he repeated. 

His attention was drawn to a little girl who hurried past, and Alex tipped her head at the sight of a giant rainbow slinky in her hand. The next thing she knew Dean was gone, and she looked around in surprise to find him sauntering towards the prize counter. The man from yesterday was there — Howard or something. “Howdy, friend.”

“Giant slinky.” Dean pointed the rainbow slinky on the top shelf. “Would have killed for one of them when I was a kid. How much?” 

A wide grin broke out across Alex’s face as she watched him. “One thousand tickets,” Howard declared. 

“American dinero.” The hunter rubbed his fingers together for emphasis. “How much.”

“Oh, we don't take cash here at Plucky Pennywhistle’s.” Howard firmly shook his head, but his voice remained chipper. “Only tickets one through hard work and determination.” 

Alex watched as the hunter’s shoulders squared, half in disappointment, half in unamusement. “You mainlined the Kool-aid, huh?”

Howard laughed, but stayed firm on his stance. “It’s double ticket Tuesday if you play skeeball.” 

Dean hesitated only a second longer before walking away, and Alex stood up to greet him. “Dude. We’re gonna win you one of those things,” she told him with a grin. “I mean, who says Sammy’s got to have all the fun, huh?” She pointed to the large game with the basketball hoop. “Dibs. Whoever makes the most tickets gets to play with it first.”

“Oh, you’re on.” Dean hurried away towards the skeeball machine, and Alex fished out her wallet, making her way over to the token machine against the far wall. She swiped her credit card — five dollars would be enough to start — and headed back over to the basketball machine, tokens in hand. 

The game started with a fanfare of music and flashing lights, and the angel rolled her eyes as she picked up a basketball, rolling it in her palms to feel its weight. Then she lined up her shot and let the ball roll of her fingers. It hit the back of the rim and fell in, and Alex grinned, which faded when she saw the machine whirl out only three tickets. “You frick fracking serious?” she muttered under her breath as two kids ran by, screaming at the top of their lungs. “That shot’s worth at least ten tickets.”

 

 **S** he played two games before glancing over at the skeeball machine, a frown crossing her face when Dean was gone. A fat kid was there, however, kneeling on the skeeball slope and feeding balls into the top hole. She frowned, setting down the basketball just as another, smaller kid marched up to him. “Hey,” he demanded, blonde hair falling over his angry freckled face. “Stop cheating!” 

Alex moved closer, ready to intervene, but stopped when Dean walked up behind the smaller kid, arms crossed. “You heard him. Knock it off!” His voice grew deep, and Alex bit back a grin as the fat kid scurried away. 

“Jackass,” she heard both Dean and the small kid mutter, and she saw Dean smile in amusement. Alex bit her lip, hanging back, but watching the two of them. Great. A mini Dean; just what this world needed. 

A female employee moved towards them, a plate of pizza in her hand. “Tyler,” she called, gaze falling on the blonde child standing beside Dean. “Soup’s on.”

Tyler walked away, and Alex hurried up to Dean. She frowned as she watched him snatch up the pile of tickets the other kid had racked up. “That’s cheating,” she pouted childishly, crossing her arms. 

“All’s fair in love and war.” Dean folded them up and shot her a smug grin. “That slinky’s as good as mine.” 

Alex rolled her eyes, and her gaze wandered over to where Tyler was sitting down at one of the smaller tables, frowning down at his food. “But, Mom, I don’t want —”

“Just eat it.” 

“But it sucks!” 

The mom let out a tired sigh and walked away, leaving the kid to slide his food away in disgust. He picked up some crayons and started drawing on one of the placemats. Alex tipped her head as Dean walked over to the kid, stuffing the tickets into his jacket. “Hey, why don’t you cut her some slack?” he suggested. Alex hurried after him. 

“Why do you care?” Tyler grumbled, pausing in his art to look up at Dean.

The Winchester wasn’t deterred by the kid’s tone. “Because I’ve been where you are.” 

Tyler didn’t believe him. “Your mom made you camp at a stupid Plucky’s after school?” he asked, skepticism lining his voice.

“Y — no.” Dean shook his head. “No, but my dad, he . . . hauled me places. Besides,” he continued, “she’s working a tough gig.” He nodded behind Tyler, Alex looked up to see the mom kneeling on the ground, cleaning up a spill, and she sympathetically frowned in agreement with what Dean had said. “You know? You should take pity on the old.”

“He’s right,” Alex agreed. “Personally, my dad just left me at home,” she added, pulling up a chair alongside the table and sat down. “At least here you’ve got food, huh? And it’s free.”

Tyler shook his head. “The stuff tastes like butt.”

“What?” Dean scoffed. “Come on, it can’t be that bad.” He picked up the pizza plate. “Let’s see here.” He took a bite, nodded then opened his mouth, letting the pizza fall back onto the plate. “Ah,” he grimaced. “That _is_ butt.” 

Alex laughed, and when Dean tried to hand her the plate she pushed it away with a disgusted noise. “I don’t want it!” she exclaimed. “Ew. That’s been in your _mouth!”_

Tyler smiled, and Alex watched him turned back to his drawing. Dean noticed too, and asked, “You scared of robots?” 

Tyler looked up, and Alex craned her neck to see the angular robot with a large square head. Red lines were shooting out of his yellow eyes, and Alex grinned. Tyler looked up. “They have laser eyes,” he insisted, face dead serious. 

“Yes,” Dean agreed, and Alex nodded as well. “Yeah they do.” She watched as the door to the back room opened, and Howard stepped out. Alex tipped her head, pushing her grace outwards to feel that Sam was still back there, and he was feeling frustrated. The blinds shifted, and the angel rolled her eyes as she recognized Lucifer’s eyes peering outwards, observing the room. Then he was gone, and Alex stood up as Dean pulled out her phone to text his brother. 

“This is getting boring,” Alex muttered, following Dean away. “Sam needs to hurry up and find something.” She sidestepped a running child, and her wings flicked in distaste at the disrespect she was being shown. Then she immediately shook the thought away; kids didn’t understand respect.

Dean grunted in agreement, pulling her away from her thoughts. “I’m going back to skeeball,” he finally said. “I’ll be damned if we’re leaving this town without that slinky.” He walked away, and Alex rolled her eyes, but made her way back to the basketball game. 

 

 **“D** ean!” Sam’s voice had Alex looking up in surprise. She saw a flash of yellow as the man in the lion suit tore past, his lion’s head missing to reveal fear-filled human eyes. Instinctively she jumped forward, feet carrying her after Dean. His longer legs had him pulling ahead, and she forced herself faster, hands going out to help brace herself as she took a corner too fast. “Hey hey hey!” Dean yelled, voice deep with authority. “Come here!” Dean managed to grab the lion’s tail, but it came off when he pulled back, leaving him stumbling slightly. “Hey!” The man ahead of them flung open the back door, and in three steps Dean was through. Alex threw the door open in time to see Dean leap forward, arms wrapping around the man as he tackled him onto and over a pile of rubber tires. 

Alex slowed down as Dean rolled the man over, pinning him down. Immediately the man started protesting wildly. “If this is about the meth lab that fireballed up in Butte, it wasn’t me, okay?” he insisted. “It was my brother, but, uh, we have the same fingerprints and . . . please.” He broke down into begging as Sam slid to a stop beside Alex. “This is the best job I’ve ever had.”

Dean looked back at Alex and Sam, and the young angel frowned in disappointment. Dean turned back to the man below him, who’s long brown hair was stuck wildly to his face. “All right, uh, look . . .”

“Cliff,” the man stuttered out. 

“Cliff,” Dean repeated tersely. “You’re not using kid’s nightmares to smoke anybody, are you, Cliff?”

The man stared up at Dean with wide eyes. “I don’t . . . think so?” he finally said, wild brown eyes darting between the three hunters as he slowly tried to comprehend what he was being asked.

Alex felt his pulse slow slightly, and she nodded. “He’s not lying,” she confirmed, crossing her arms in frustration. “He’s not our guy.”

Dean looked back over at her and then stood up. “Get up,” he snapped at the man, reaching down to haul the man to his feet. 

The man spun around to face them, back to the setting sun. “W-What’s going on?” His gaze warily darted across all of them, the fear starting to die out.

“Alright, cards up. We don’t care that you, you know, broke bad or whatever. But there is something seriously weird going on.” 

“You mean the sub-basement.”

 _Sub-basement?_ Alex’s wings curled forward in confusion, and she took a step towards Cliff. “Sub-basement?” she repeated. “This place has a sub-basement?” 

“Sure,” Cliff agreed. “D-Door’s out back. Easy to miss if you don’t know.”

“What’s in there?” 

“All I know is . . . me and Saul used to come in after hours sometimes and . . .” He laughed at his next thought. “You ever shroom in a ball pit?” He laughed again, but it immediately died when he looked over at Sam. “Not that I . . . would,” he quickly lied. “It was Saul. Just Saul. All alone. Anyways . . . sometimes we’d here, like, spooky stuff through the vents . . . coming up from the boiler room.”

Sam and Dean exchanged looks, and then Dean let out a long breath. “Get out of here,” he snapped, and Cliff hurried back into the store. Sam and Dean followed suit, moving back into the building with Alex close on their tail. “I thought you said you checked the place,” Dean snapped. 

“I did,” Alex retorted, slamming the door behind her. “The main level and the basement. No one said anything about a sub-basement.”

“But somebody stole it!” Tyler’s frustrated voice had Alex looking towards him and his mother. Tyler was standing beside the table, glaring up at his mom, who looked both tired and frustrated as well.

“So draw another one!” she snapped, immediately cutting herself off as her voice grew sharper than intended. 

As the three of them moved closer, Tyler looked up at Dean, and whatever he saw the hunter’s face had him turning back to his mom. “Okay. I’m sorry.” 

Alex smiled as the mother’s shoulders feel in relief and gentleness. “Thank you,” she whispered, taking her son’s hand. 

The kid shook his head and muttered, “That place mat sucked anyways.”

Alex watched them leave before looking up at Dean. He met her gaze, eyes questioning, but all she said was, “Nice. I keep forgetting you’re good with kids.” 

“I’m good with everyone,” Dean dryly quipped before hurrying over to the table, face darkening. 

“Dean?” Sam followed after his brother. “What? What is it?” 

“Well, while you were off playing Dirty Harry, uh, Tyler’s mom got pissy and now his place mat’s missing.” Dean looked around at the other tables for the placemat before he looked back up at his brother. 

Sam nodded as he connected the dots. “So, what you you think?” 

“I think bitchy mom plus, uh, sad kid plus place mat with something nuts written on it . . . equals wacky corpse.” 

“So you think she’s next on the list?” Sam restated, and Alex huffed in agreement. “Alright. I’ll tail them just to be safe. You and Alex —”

“Check the boiler room,” Dean finished. “I know. Great.” 

“Right.” Sam hurried off towards the front doors, but stopped after only a few steps. “Oh. Oh, uh, Dean, hey, uh, any idea what he drew?” 

“Robot.”

“Robot?” 

“Yeah,” Dean confirmed. “About the size of a house. Shoots destructo beams out of his eyes.” 

Sam’s voice faltered for a second, and then he nodded. “At least I’ll see it coming.”

He hurried away, and Alex snorted in amusement as he left. “ ‘At least I’ll see it coming,’ ” she repeated. “That’s good.” She moved towards the back door, and Dean followed after her, speeding up so he could walk by her side. “Uh, sub-basement entrance is just on the right side of the building,” she added as she pushed her way out the back door. “Uh, right around the corner.”

“Thanks.” Dean took the lead, pulling a small flashlight out of his jacket pocket. They rounded the corner of the building and Dean stopped beside a wooden hatch, locked with a old-fashioned padlock. Alex reached down and it sprang open. 

The hatch revealed a dark set of stairs, and Alex let Dean take the lead. The rickety stairs creaked under their weight, and then they were underground. Alex blinked, letting her eyes adjust. “Aw hell no.” Her gaze came to rest on a giant clown’s head grinning in the dark. Dean’s light swung over to it, illuminating its plastic face. “That’s disgusting,” she muttered, letting Dean move past it before she followed. 

“Now that’s perfectly normal.”Dean led the way into the furthest room where fire burned in a large bowl on an alter. A white, round symbol was painted on the ground below it, and Alex slipped past Dean to stand in front of it.

“Witches it is, don’t you think?” She peered into the fire before looking over at Dean, who had made his way over to the workbench beside them. “What’s that?” 

“Don’t know.” The Winchester’s flashlight danced over the crayon drawings pinned to the wall, all of which held a similar theme: drowning. Dean turned off his flashlight and stuck it into his pocket. On a table right next to him lay a book, three candles set up around it. Alex circled around to see Dean flip through the pages; clearly it was a spell book, and a very complicated one at that. Alex gently pushed her grace against it, unsurprised to feel the familiar tinge of dark energy laced through the pages. The Winchester closed the book to reveal Tyler’s place mat underneath, and he pulled it out. 

“Drop it.” The soft voice had Alex spinning around in surprise, shocked that she had been so absorbed in what lay in front of her that she hadn’t felt the man approach. Dean slowly set his gun down on the ground, and Howard hummed in satisfaction. “Now slide it over.” The gun spun towards Alex. “You too.” 

Alex held up her hands. “Nothing on me,” she lied, wings rising in a hint of a challenge. “Come search me if you want.” 

Dean kicked his gun towards Howard, who stooped to pick it up. “You try anything, and I’ll shoot,” he warned, and Alex just rolled her eyes, but stayed put. Angel or not, getting shot wasn’t fun.

“Some pretty heavy hoodoo you got here,” Dean began. “I gotta say, as far as I know, none of these things can, uh, poop out a unicorn.”

Howard moved closer, but both Alex and Dean held their ground. “There’s power in fear,” he explained darkly. “And when a child draws out what he’s afraid of, a little of that mojo escapes on that page.”

“So what, you toss it in the fire, and some bed-wetter’s horror show comes to life?”

“I got to get something off the parent, too. Something they own.” Howard adjusted his grip on the gun as he added, “That part gets a bit tricky.” 

“Well it hasn’t seemed to slow you down,” the Winchester quipped.

“I’m just doing what I need to do!” Howard suddenly snapped, voice ringing off of the stone walls, and Alex glanced over at Dean; he shook her head, and she let her wings fall back to her sides with a loud exhale. Fine. She could wait. 

“Okay, I get it. Okay?” Suddenly Dean moved tossing the large book across the room towards the man. Howard managed to spin out of the way but it gave enough time for the angel blade to fall into Alex’s hands, and enough time for Dean to grab Tyler’s place mat. He tore it in half and crumpled the two halves, letting them to the ground. “No drawing, no iron giant.” 

“Oh, that b-word’s still on the list!” Howard hissed. “But not tonight. Bigger fish.” His gun swung over to Alex, who, with a quiet word from Dean, stopped in her tracks. 

“What are you gonna do, Howard?” Dean taunted, voice dark. “You gonna shoot her? Let me tell you; she’s gonna be _pissed_.”

 _Alex?_ Alex looked around when Sam’s voice rang through her head, thick with fear. _I’m at the abandoned garage just by our motel? Uh . . . get here. Like now, okay?_

Alex staked forward. “What have you done to Sam?” she demanded, twisting her angel blade so it glinted in the firelight. 

“Shut up!” Howard yelled, waving his gun between Alex and Dean. “Cause I got lots of ways to take care of bullies! Don’t you worry. Like that FBI guy? He’s your pal, right? I saw you chase Cliff down. Five minutes ago, his business card was torched. Along with something from my . . . personal collection.” Howard moved towards one of the tables and picked up a pile of place mats. “I—I—I picked out something real special for him, too.” 

“Dammit.” Alex took a step towards the door, pausing only when Howard yelled for her to stop. She glanced at Dean before turning back to the Plucky’s employee. “You listen here. You’re gonna let me go up those stairs and out that door, or things are gonna get a hell of a lot worse for you, you understand?” Howard hesitated and she pulsed her grace out, making the fire explode upwards. Using that moment of distraction she slipped forward, knocking the gun away and grabbing him the throat, physically lifting the man up into the air. “You understand?” she repeated. 

When Howard nodded the angel snorted. “Good.” She dropped him back on the ground to see Dean holding the gun. “Want me to kill him?” 

“I want to talk with him first.” 

“Fine. I’m taking the Charger.” Alex let her angel blade slide back up into her sleeve before she bounded up the stairs and jumped into the gold car. Her grace jumps-started the engine, and she tore off down the street. 

 

 **S** am’s Jeep had her pulling off the road, and she jumped out of the car before the engine had even fully died. “Sam?” she yelled, grace pulsing out as she looked around. Her gaze came to rest on the door in front of her, the wood broken. Grunts and laughter came from inside, and Alex broke into a run, sliding to a stop as she entered. “The hell?” 

Two clowns were surrounding Sam, trapping him between them. Both had green hair and red suits, their white faces painted into eerie grins. They turned when Alex entered, and the one nearest her let out a dark cackle before punching Sam in the face. He let out a grunt, stumbling back into the second, and Alex let her angel blade fall into her hands, wings raising in a challenge. “Hey!” she snapped, lightning flashing in intimidation, “pick on someone your own size.”

The first clown rushed her, dark eyes alight with a frenzied hunger, and the angel barely ducked beneath a blow, using her momentum to spin around to victoriously sink her weapon into the clown’s back. 

Nothing happened. 

The blade clattered to the ground, and pain shot through the angel’s face as she was knocked across the room. Her wings flared out, barely slowing her fall as she hit the concrete floor. “What the hell?” she gasped, struggling her feet though the wind had been knocked from her lungs. The room spun slightly as she watched Sam get into two good punches on the clown beside him, but not even that seemed to have an effect. The angel took a deep breath and surged forward, gracing stretching out ahead of her. However, not even that seemed to slow the clown dead set on her, and it shook of the attack like it wasn’t even there. 

“Alex!” 

“What?” Alex backpedaled to avoid a punch, almost tripping over her own feet. “What the actual hell, man? It’s like they can’t die!” 

“They — they don’t bleed.” Sam grunted as he stumbled back. 

Alex snorted. “Yeah,” she muttered, sidestepping a jab and lashing out, fist knocking the clown several feet back. “Kind of noticed that when I stabbed him _in the back_. Close your eyes, Sam.” She did the same, gathering up her grace. “If this doesn’t work, nothing will.” She was about to force her grace out in a sudden explosion of burning light when the laughter suddenly ceased. 

She cracked open her eyes in time to see the clowns explode into a shower of glitter, and she immediately recoiled with a yelp, wiping the offending mess off of her face. 

Sam’s face was one of terror and confusion, and he was absolutely covered tiny pieces of iridescent foil. Alex shook her head, trying to get as much of the glitter off as possible, hoping she didn’t look like her friend. For several seconds, neither spoke, both slowly processing what had just occurred. “Dude,” Alex finally said. “That . . .”

“I fucking hate clowns.” 

 

 **D** ean was standing outside Plucky’s when Alex pulled up in the Charger. Behind her, Sam followed in the Jeep, and Alex ran a hand through her hair one more time to get the last of the glitter off before jumping out. Sam did the same. “Let’s roll.” Dean grinned at the sight of his brother, clearly doing his best to hold back laughter, and Sam spread his arms wide. “Go ahead,” he consented, hanging his head. “Say it.” 

Dean let out a loud, full laugh, head thrown back. “I’m sorry,” he finally said, trying to get his voice back under control, “but you look like you got attacked by some PCP-crazed strippers.” 

Sam smiled at his brother’s words, shaking his head in disbelief. “Dude,” he defended, “one of them sprayed me with seltzer from his flower.” 

That only caused Dean to laugh louder, and Alex grinned widely at the sight of his amusement. “I’m s— whew.” The eldest Winchester shook his head. “What?” 

“Nothing. Carry on.” 

“Ohh. That’s . . . Sam,” Dean set his face into one of the best seriousness he could muster at that moment, “ I’m sorry for psychologically scarring you.”

“Which time?” 

“Shut up,” his brother grinned. “I’m serious. You know, me ditching you here when we were kids — that was a dick move. You know the whole clown thing —”

“You know what, man?” Sam cut him off. “Honestly . . . getting my ass kicked by those juggalos tonight was, uh . . . it was therapeutic.” 

“You faced your fears,” Dean agreed. 

“Exactly. And now, what else could a clown possibly ever do to me?” Sam held out his hands and declared, “I feel good.”

“I feel violated,” Alex quipped back. “I mean, I’m never going to look a clown the same way again. I already had a low opinion of ‘em, but still.”

Sam chuckled, but reached through the passenger window of the Jeep. “By the way, to celebrate . . .” He pulled out a giant rainbow slinky, and Dean’s eyes lit up.

“What?” he exclaimed, “No way!” Sam gave the slinky to Dean and circled around to the passenger side of the Charger as Dean asked, “Did you win this?” 

“We _earned_ that.” 

Dean laughed triumphantly and moved towards the driver’s side of the car. “Hey, I got you a little something too, actually.” He bent down and to pick up something Alex hadn’t noticed off of the curb. He tossed a Plucky doll across the roof and into Sam’s arms, laughing when Sam fumbled with it, holding it up with an unamused expression. “What?” he joked. “You said you were over it. Think of it as a . . . clown-phobia sobriety chip.”

Alex laughed, but Sam set his lips in a firm line. “Yeah, thanks.” In one firm motion he gripped the head and pulled it off, tossing it and the body behind the car, leaving Alex to watch in shocked amusement. Then Sam got into the car, and with a long shrug, Alex did the same. 

 

 **T** he Winchesters managed to get some sleep that night, but Alex stayed awake, unable for some reason to even close her eyes. As the eastern sky began to grow light she gave up trying to sleep and retrieved Castiel’s trench coat from her bag, slipping it on and sitting down at the table, curling up into the fabric and letting her eyes unfocus. 

It was Sam’s movements that had her coming back to reality. She turned her head to see him roll over, and ran hand down her face before turning back to the window. 

“Alex. Hey. Alex.” Lucifer’s insistent voice had the young angel rolling her eyes, and she turned her head further so she couldn’t see how he sat at the table across from her. “Why don’t you talk to me?” he prompted, leaning back in the chair and crossing one leg over another. “It’s been a while, don’t you think? What do you say? A little one-on-one heart-to-heart?” 

Alex crossed her arms, and the devil leaned forward, elbows coming to rest on the wooden table. “Something’s wrong,” he noted. “I wonder what that would be.” When Alex snorted, he grinned, resting his knuckles against his lips as he studied her. “If this is about the other day —”

“Just shut up, would you?” Alex finally snapped, wings flaring out. The devil grinned, pleased that he now had her attention.

“Alex?” Sam slowly sat up, looking at her in confusion across the dim room. “What . . . who are you talking to?” 

The young angel glared daggers at devil, who’s lazy grin just grew even wider, before she sighed. “It’s not important, okay?” 

“Wait wait wait.” Sam got out of bed and approached, sliding into the chair across from her and displacing a very put-out Lucifer, who took up his place at the nearby bar. “Are you . . . are talking to _him_?”

“It’s not important,” Alex promised. “I can tell the difference. And it’s not like he —”

“So you are seeing him.” Sam looked puzzled, but underneath was a sense of urgency. “How?” 

Alex let out a long breath before holding the hunter’s gaze, reciting the answer she had long rehearsed. “Um, okay. Imagine if you will, our minds are like two lumps of, uh . . . silly putty. When I did whatever I did so I could see what you see, I sort of put a bridge between the two of us with my grace. Lucifer . . . he’s using that to cross into, uh, into my mind where only I can see him. It only works over a short distance,” she added. “Imagine pulling those two lumps apart, and the bridge between it gets thinner and thinner until it breaks. Er . . . the connection doesn’t really break, per say, but he can’t get across to my mind anymore. There’s about a ten foot limit. The further you are the harder it is for him.” She glanced towards the devil. “He can’t stay long either. It burns up too much of his energy that way.” 

“And you’re okay with that?” 

The angel shrugged. “Doesn’t really make a difference to me. And apparently talking to him doesn’t solidify him anymore in my mind; I’d feel the difference,” she explained. “I’d feel his grace changing. Besides,” she added with a glare towards the devil, “if he starts getting too annoying I can just cut the connection and he won't get _any_ attention from me.”

She expected the archangel to react, for his grin to falter, but it just grew, as if he clearly knew something she didn’t. “You won’t do that,” he promised, shaking his head. “It’s not like you to make him suffer alone.” He got off the barstool, stalking closer. Alex heard Sam call her name, but she didn’t listen, attention fully focused on the devil as he circled around to stand behind the Winchester. “Besides,” he added, “if you do . . .” He chuckled, hands coming to rest on the Winchester’s shoulders. “ _Le mohoath_ , you haven't even _begun_ to see what I can do.”


	36. Repo Man

**June 25, 2012**

**Coeur d'Alene, Idaho**

**“I** t’s nice. Kind of like a men’s room with beds.” 

Alex rolled her eyes, dropping her bag on the far bed of their new motel. Ever since Wichita, Lucifer had been getting more and more persistent, sticking around for longer and showing up whenever he could. The soles of Dean’s boots clicked on the tile floor as he paced to the other side of the room, unaware of the devil’s presence. 

She glanced up to see Lucifer scrape some of the green algae off of the far wall, carefully studying the build up on his finger. “Mmm,” he hummed delightfully. “Avocado grime.”

On the other bed Sam paid him no attention, instead busying himself by pulling out a stack of manilla folders they had picked up from the police station on the way in. 

“Takes years to build up a patina like this.” The devil stuck his finger in his mouth, tasting the grime, and then he suddenly flickered and disappeared. 

Alex glanced over at Sam, who was digging his thumb into his palm. “Thanks,” she mumbled, rolling her eyes. “Even for him that was disgusting.” 

Sam nodded, and Alex sat down on the bed, looking around the room. Admittedly, Lucifer had been right about his assessment of the place; it was disgusting. The floor was a dusty, brash mix of brown, green, and dark gold tiles. The wall across from the bed was a dark wooden panel, but the rest were a nasty yellow-green tile with a slightly darker colored mold in the grout. Her grace curled unpleasantly, and she shook her head in disgust. 

“What do you mean you can’t find him?” Dean walked back over to Alex and dropped his duffle bag down beside her. “It’s Dick Roman. Turn on CNN. Didn’t you see him at that, uh, press conference down in Phoenix? That bastard’s everywhere.” 

Alex shook her head again, getting up off of the bed to reluctantly check out the bathroom, leaving Dean to his conversation with Frank Devereaux. “You sure? No, I—I—I don’t care that they’ve infiltrated the luxury boat industry, Frank.”

Alex snickered, which immediately died into a frown when she flicked on the bathroom lights. Mold and fugly tile.

“Great!” She heard Dean snapped, his patience stretched to the limit. “Call Kanye.” Alex heard his phone snap shut, and she turned off the lights and stepped back into the main room. 

“Frank still stumped on Roman?” Sam guessed from his bed. The manilla folders were lying around him, each one open to the first page. 

“Yeah. Alright, let’s do this.” Dean sat down on the bed across from his brother, and Alex cross the room to join them.

“Okay, um, look at the victim profiles.” Sam motioned to the two autopsy photos of bloodstained women. “Same age, same hair color, body type. The ritual mutilations line up exactly.”

Dean grunted in agreement, and Alex tipped her head. “Yeah,” she began, “you mentioned you’d worked a case just like this a couple years back.” Alex sat down on the bed beside Dean, pulling her wings and legs in close. 

Sam nodded. “Four years ago, same town. A demon was killing women. We caught him, grilled him for intel on Lilith, then exorcised him.”

“Who down there would have let our demon out of the can?” Dean wondered, his face twisted in puzzlement. “He squealed on his superiors. We made sure of that. I mean, he should be down under until, uh, trumpet day.” He got up off of the bed and walked over to the cooler, and Alex watched as he retrieved two beers. “Want one, Pip?” 

Alex shook her head, and Dean returned, handing one to his brother. Sam continued, “Yeah, except two women were killed in the last two weeks, same parts missing, I mean, same old hunting grounds, even.”

“Alright,” the Winchester grunted, “well, we can take a swing at it. But you know it’s all about the Leviathans now, right? They’re the ones we need to be hunting.”

“Yeah,” Alex slowly agreed, “but we’ve got nothing. Frank’s got nothing. And nothing’s better than a good old-fashioned demon hunt to kill some time.”

“And this one’s ours, Dean,” Sam added. “It’s unfinished business, apparently.”

Dean hesitated, then reluctantly gave in. “You’re right,” he agreed. “I, uh . . . where do you want to start?”

 

 **T** he static of the police scanner had Alex stirring from beside Dean. Her wings folded outwards as she heard Sam roll over, and her gaze flickered towards the clock. 7:43 am. “Repeat, this is Unit 32,” the scanner crackled. “We’ve got another one. That’s an 187. Female, caucasian, maybe late thirties at the parking garage on Summit.” 

Alex nudged Dean into consciousness as the voice ceased for a second before a second, female voice came through. “Unit 32, assistance on route.”

“We got a real mess here, dispatch.” 

Sam flipped on the lamp, and Alex blinked at the sudden light, wings . Beside her, Dean groaned, rolling over and almost off of the small bed. “What?” he muttered, glaring up at his brother. 

“Police found something. Female, thirties.” Sam tossed back the sheets and got out of bed. “Come on. Could be what we’re looking for.” He grabbed his bag and moved towards the bathroom. 

 

 **H** alf an hour later, Alex followed Sam and Dean under the yellow police tape in the parking garage and towards the scene of flashing lights. A body lay up ahead, with police officers and forensics all around. “You know,” Dean muttered, casting a dark glance around, “every time we do this, I wonder if today’s the day. We walk up, flash our tin to a bunch of chompers pretending to be policemen.”

At those words Alex flared her wings out, pushing her grace through the empty parking level. Then her wings fell back down. “They’re human,” she promised, lengthening her stride to fall in step with Sam. 

“Thought you guys might show up.” A short, stout man appeared behind the Winchesters and clapped them on the shoulders, a friendly smile on his face despite the circumstances. “It’s the drummer boys: Agents Bonham and . . . Watts, right?” When both the Winchesters slowly agreed he looked down at Alex. “And fresh blood, I see.”

“Agent Spencer.” Alex curtly shook the detective’s hand, gaze sliding past him to where Lucifer was leaning against the side of the large van that read CORONER MOBILE UNIT, and her eyebrows knitted together in pure confusion as she watched him exhale with pursed lips, finger going up to poke at the air. 

When Dean didn’t speak up, Sam cleared his throat, taking over. “Uh, it’s a pleasure to see you again, Detective . . .”

“Sutton,” Lucifer reminded, poking at what had to be another imaginary bubble. Alex’s head tilted as she watched. 

Sam ignored the devil. “You know what?” he said instead, “Pardon me. Um, what was it, Detective . . .”

“S u t t o n.” Lucifer over-enunciated each syllable, crossing his arms over his chest, and Alex’s gaze flickered over to him once again. 

“Oh, no problemo,” the detective smiled, and held out his hand to the taller agent. “Detective Sutton.”

“Sutton,” Sam repeated, shaking hands. “That’s right.”

Dean nodded. “Sutton, yeah.” He reached out as well to shake the detective’s hands. “Hi.”

Sutton smiled, which faltered after a second as he looked past them at the crime scene. “Sad to say the case looks to be open again,” he frowned. 

“Are you sure?” Dean and Sam followed the detective over to where a SUV sat with it’s back hatch open, broken glass all around. Alex hesitated, watching as Lucifer made a face towards Sam’s back, sticking out his forked tongue in contempt. Alex rolled her eyes and followed after Sam.

“Same tools, same cuts,” Sutton was explaining. “Same crazy.” He motioned down to the body and Alex crouched beside it. Deeps cuts crisscrossed the woman’s bloody face, and the angel tipped her head as she noticed part of the woman’s left pinky was missing; it looked like the bones from the second knuckle down to the palm had been extracted. “Makes sense,” the detective continued. “We didn’t catch the critter last time, did we?” 

Dean didn’t answer that. However, he did ask, “And no suspects?” 

Sutton shook his head. “Same as before. Very thorough. Cold-blooded.” Alex stood up to see Sam standing by the vehicle’s open front door. 

“Thank you, detective.” Dean dismissed the man, and once Sutton had walked away, Sam circled back to them. Alex turned her attention to the open trunk, gaze flickering across the mess of glass and blood. She opened her mouth to ask a question, but Sam cut her off. 

“Hey.” He pointed down to the corner of the truck, where a fine dusting of yellow powder lay along the top of the bumper. He dipped his finger and smelled it, but Alex knew what it was long before he exhaled sharply at the pungent smell. “Sulphur.” 

“Dammit,” Dean muttered. “Better go check on Havelock.” Sam nodded, and the two of them walked away, leaving Alex staring after them, dumbfounded. 

“Who?” Alex hurried after the two brothers, wings flittering behind her. “Dean! Who’s Havelock?”

 

 **A** lex followed Sam and Dean down the sidewalk and into a store nestled in with the rest of the brick stores along the street. A young woman stood at the corner, looking nervously around; when she spotted the Winchesters her eyes lit up, and she waved them over. “Sam.”

“Nora.” Sam greeted her with a small smile. “You’re looking good.” 

“As are you.” The woman looked down at Alex, brushing her long brown hair out of her face. “I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Nora Havelock.”

“Um, hi. Alex.”Alex shook her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“Uh, why don’t you come in.” Nora led them into the brick building and up a flight of stairs, and Alex fell back so the Winchesters could take the lead. They stopped beside a locked door. “This is it.” Nora unlocked it and stepped inside, and the three hunters followed. 

Sam and Alex’s attention was immediately drawn to the large sign that read “Wiccan Web.” A devil’s trap was behind the letters, and underneath was the website www.wiccansweb.com. Sam read it aloud, and Nora looked back at them. “Internet mail order,” she explained. “White magic only — herbs and talisman.”

“Huh.” Alex walked over to Nora as she opened a door in the back, revealing her office. A cluttered desk sat in the middle, a photocopier was in the back, and a plaid futon sat off to their left. A large, brown devil’s trap was painted on the floor, and Nora scooted around it. 

Sam noticed it also, and asked, “You sure about that?” 

“Careful, it’s still drying. I have a friend at the sheriff’s office,” she explained as the hunters entered the office. “I know all about the new murders. I’m doing what I can to protect myself. I’m also translating some very old banishments.” She handed several pieces of parchment to Sam, and Alex craned her neck to look at them. At the top was the spell scrawled in Latin, with the English carefully printed below it. 

“Wow,” Sam finally praised after scanning through a couple pages. “These are good.” 

Nora nodded, turning back to her desk. “Thanks. I’ve got an affinity. But back then, that night at the farmhouse, I was in over my head. I know that now, believe me. I will leave all of that to the pros.” 

Alex made a questioning noise, not sure what she was talking about as she hadn’t heard the full story of what had happened in this town, but Dean just nodded in agreement. “Well, you helped track it down. I mean, it was some solid legwork.”

Nora Havelock gave a small shrug, not wanting to take all the credit. “When it came down to it, all I knew was somebody who knew somebody who knew the right number to call. And your number’s not working, by the way.” 

Sam and Dean exchanged looks, and Alex grunted. “Yeah. Technical difficulties.”

“It’s a monster problem, really,” Dean added.

Sam shot his brother a look, letting air out from his nose before turning back to Nora. “So, uh, you haven’t had any contact?” 

“With the demon? No, thank God. I only have one or two things to finish in town, and then I’m leaving.” When Dean voiced his approval she added, “Have you found Jeffrey yet?” 

“Who?” The Winchesters exchanged look, and Dean firmly shook his head.

Nora blinked, as if she was surprised that the brothers could have forgotten him. “The man who the demon possessed. The one you almost beat to death.” 

“Yeah, Jeffrey.” Dean slowly nodded as he connected the name to the face. “That poor bastard.”

“Some demons tend to be sentimental, don’t they?” Nora guessed, gaze flitting between the three of them. “Always go back to the same host if they can.”

The young angel looked thoughtful. “I’ve never heard of that,” she admitted. “Then again, I guess it’s possible. I don’t know that much about demons.” Her phone rang, and Alex quickly excused herself from the conversation. “Uh, hello? Agent Spencer.”

“Alex?” 

“Garth?” Alex scratched her forehead. “Uh, hey, man. What’s up?” She skirted the devil’s trap and crossed the room. “Everything okay?” 

“Yeah, everything’s fine. Listen. I’m looking for some intel for another hunter. Something tells me you might be able to help, being so close to Bobby and all.” 

Alex’s throat tightened, and she nodded. “Okay,” she got out. “Shoot.” 

“You ever come across a Keres before? More importantly, any idea how to kill one?” 

Keres. Alex closed her eyes, thinking hard. “Uh, sort of,” she finally said. “Yeah. Actually it was my first sort of ‘case’ with Bobby. Uh, let me think. Keres. Greek death-spirits, aren’t attached to any one place, have claws and a taste for fresh blood. Um . . . I think you kill ‘em like you do a wendigo. Fire and pray that it works.” She heard Garth chuckle and quickly added, “Oh, and, uh, don’t forget to carry a silver knife. The case we worked ended up being a redcap.”

“Ah. I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks. “

“Yeah. Stay alive.” Alex hung up as Sam and Dean walked out of the office. “So?” 

“We’re going to go see if we can find Jeffrey.” Dean held out half a sheet of paper with an address scrawled on it. “You in?” 

“Who was that?” Sam added. 

“Garth. Asking about a possible Keres. And maybe I’ll head down to the coroner's. The second vic’s full report plus tox screen should be in by now, and maybe that’ll have some clues. Maybe you can drop me off on the way there?” 

“Sure.” Sam led the way towards the exit. “That sounds like a plan.” 

 

 **A** lex’s phone rang as she pushed her way out into the afternoon sunlight. “Yello,” she answered, pinning her phone against her ear with one hand, the other tightly clutching the folder. “Spencer.”

“Alex, hey.” That was Sam. “Where are you?”

“Uh, just got the folder, and am currently standing on the sidewalk.” Alex kicked at a small rock to emphasize her words, tightening her grip on the folder as she remembered Sam couldn’t see it. “Why? What’s up? Find Jeffrey?” 

“Yeah, we did, actually. Listen, I’m on my way down to the library; Jeffrey said the demon burned a list of names into his head last time he was topside, a list of female targets, and apparently he’s picking up where he left off.” 

Alex frowned. “A demon with an agenda? That’s not something you heard everyday. That sounds more OCD serial killer than, you know, demon-y.”

Sam grunted in agreement. “Yeah,” he conceded, “well, it’s the best we’ve got. I’m headed there now; I can swing by and pick you up.”

“Yeah, yeah, that sounds like a good idea.”

“Okay, yeah. I’m just a few blocks away. Oh and, uh, Lucifer’s riding shotgun.” 

Sam hung up, and Alex pulled her phone away from her ear, staring down at the the black screen. “Was that figurative or literal?” she wondered aloud. Her question was immediately answered as a silver Ford pulled up alongside her, and Alex circled around to find the devil in the front seat. “Out,” she demanded. When the devil didn’t move, she sat down where he was, her body passing straight through his. She heard Lucifer’s protest, now from the backseat, and she muttered, “I am _not_ taking backseat to a hallucination.” 

Sam chuckled in amusement, and the second Alex closed the car door they drove away. 

 

 **L** ucifer disappeared at some point during the ride, only to show back up once they stepped through the library doors. A blonde woman with her hair in a tight bun pushed a cart full of books past, whispering out an, “Excuse me,” with a smile as she did so. 

“You’re right.” Lucifer appeared directly behind Sam, leaning up slightly so he could look over the hunter’s shoulder with a sad shake of his head. “We just don’t read anymore.” Sam walked away, and the devil frowned, following after. “Marjorie Willis,” he said, pointing after the librarian. “Librarian, indoor gardening enthusiast, our demon’s next organ donor.”

Sam ignored him, circling around to a wooden table where he could keep the librarian in view. Alex sat down in the chair next to Sam, Lucifer across from him, staring expectantly at the Winchester. The hunter shifted, leaning slightly towards Alex to see the librarian, and Lucifer mimicked him, blocking his view. Sam leaned further, and once against the devil leaned as well. Alex found herself leaning slightly away from Sam as his head invaded her personal space, letting out a harsh breath of air until he straightened again. “Relax,” she muttered. “I’ve got eyes on her.”

Sam returned to his original position straight up, and Lucifer did the same, crossing his arms. “Come on, Sam,” he finally said. “Talk to me. It’s been _months_.”

“Don’t you dare,” Alex added quietly, glaring up at Sam. 

“You know what, _you_ are no fun.” Lucifer pointed a finger at her, and Alex rolled her eyes. “And a little ironic, Miss I-can’t-go-five-minutes-without-needing-affection.” 

The young angel opened her mouth in a retort, but quickly shut it again, realizing where they were. In retaliation, however, she stuck her tongue out, and Lucifer did the same, the tips of his forked tongue flicking. 

Sam rolled his eyes at their childish exchange, but instead of commenting, he simply put his bag on the table and pulled out the pile of manilla folders, both from the recent string of murders and the ones from four years ago. Alex took one of the originals and flipped it open, choosing to focus on the case instead of the devil across from her. 

 

 **H** ours passed, and Alex eventually opted out of staring at the files. The sky was quickly growing dark as she turned the page in her Agatha Christie novel, eyebrows rising as the plot thickened and yet another man was found brutally murdered. Her gaze drifted to her left as Marjorie Willis wheeled a cart down the main aisle before she returned her eyes to the words on the page.

“Average annual rainfall — Hackberry, Texas . . .” Lucifer trailed off and dropped the book he was reading on the table with a loud sigh. Alex didn’t bother looking up until everyone around them sprang to life. The men and woman started seizing violently, brutally banging their heads against the table. Beside her Sam stiffened, and the angel blinked in surprise, confused as she saw past the devil’s trick to the silhouettes of the very same people sitting in their seats as if nothing was happening. Sam, however, quite clearly couldn’t see that; his thumb dug into his palm, and Lucifer flickered, the entire library going back to normal. The devil seemed less than pleased. “Come on, Sam, pay attention to me,” he half-begged, arms moving in childish frustration. “I’m _bored_.” 

Sam let out a long sigh, but his attention was drawn past the devil. Alex tipped her head as a man in dark clothes and a black leather jacket moved down the main aisle, in the same direction as Marjorie had gone. 

Lucifer noticed, too. “Civil war buff?” he joked as Sam got up. With a loud, exaggerated groan, he threw his head back, but let Sam walk away. “Glad he’s finally gone,” he said when Sam was out of earshot. “We don’t get a lot of ‘us’ time anymore, you know?” He leaned forward, the childish humor replaced by something dark and confident, something Alex rarely saw in his eyes around Sam. “You know, I haven’t seen a whole lot of angels around. Must be getting pretty hard to keep all those emotions under wrap when they swing by, hmm? Especially after —”

Alex dropped her book on the table, eyes blazing and wings flaring wide. “If you even _dare_ say Bobby’s name I’m gonna go down to hell and kick your ass, you understand me?” 

“— Cas.” Lucifer leaned back in his chair. “After Cas, obviously.” His lips twitched upwards into a sly grin at her spurt of anger, and Alex picked back up her book, angrily turning the page. 

She let out a huff, trying her best to quell her frustration. “I’m managing,” she spat out, gaze dropping back to her novel.

Lucifer fell silent, and two seconds later Sam slid back into his seat. “Uh, yeah, that’s not our guy,” he told them, but Alex didn’t look up from her book, feathers still bristling with anger that had yet to dissipate. “Apparently it’s the boyfriend.” 

Alex didn’t hold back a sudden snort of amusement, but didn't question how that was discovered. Instead, she shifted in her chair, sinking lower as Sam turned back to the crime reports. 

 

 **A** few minutes ticked away as Alex stared at the book in her hands, reading the same paragraph over and over as Lucifer’s words replayed in her head. She heard Sam try and make a few calls to Dean, but they went unanswered, and only put down the book when Sam shifted, drawing her back into reality. Marjorie Willis and her boyfriend were walking down the main aisle, and Alex watched as the librarian sat down in her chair, while her boyfriend got onto the ledge, leaning over it to kiss her on the lips. 

Lucifer wasn’t at the table anymore, and the angel blinked in confusion, pushing away the empty feeling that quickly followed. She looked around to find him leaning against the bookshelf behind her, one hand running through his hair in boredom; he gave her a small wave when their eyes met, and Alex pointedly turned back to the couple in front of her. The devil let out a sigh. “I’m pretty sure this guy’s the _boring_ kind of chubby chaser,” he finally said.

Sam, of course, ignored him, and dialed yet another number, raising it to his ear. Alex heard Dean’s “Leave your name, number, and nightmare at the tone,” followed by Sam’s insistent voice. “Dean, where are you? I’m scoping zero out here.” He hung up, and Alex rested her elbows on the table with a long sigh, head dropping into the space provided. 

“Not a good sign,” Lucifer whispered. Sam turned back to the autopsy reports, and Lucifer wandered forward, stopping behind their chairs to watch. “Huh,” he eventually said. “I’m surprised you haven’t picked up on that yet.” Sticking his hands in his pockets, the devil casually wandered around the table back into his chair. “It’s right there . . . in the coroner’s reports.” 

Sam flipped a page up, and Alex leaned closer to him, curious. It was the toxicology findings; several different drugs has a red POSITIVE next to them. Alex grabbed the folder of the second recent victim, turning to the tox screen to find the same thing. 

“Yeah,” Lucifer agreed. “Uh-huh. In this latest round of killings, our big girl’s had traces of heavy tranquilizers in their blood. Yeah? But our demon’s strong enough to make fat Betty do whatever he wants to, right? So why does he need the tranqs? Think he’s got a bad back?” When both Sam and Alex let the folders fall closed the devil added, “Yeah, whatever’s going on here, you know that demon’s not coming back to kill anybody.”

Sam reached for his phone, and Alex stared incredulously at the archangel. “How . . .” she breathed. “How the hell did you know that?” 

Lucifer gave a dark, knowing grin, and the number Sam dialed when to voicemail, leaving the hunter to hang up. The devil frowned in mock concern. “Oh no. That’s every cellphone Dean’s got. One of them should’ve picked up by now. Big brother’s probably dead.” 

“Shut up.” Sam stared at Lucifer for only a second before grabbing the folders and shoving them in the bag, hurrying away. 

Alex jumped to her feet, taking off after her friend. Lucifer didn’t follow, but he did speak, tone endearing. “He said ‘shut up’ to me.”

 

 **F** ive minutes later Sam led the way down a dark alley and up to a brick building. Alex unlocked the door, and they crept up the stairs to an apartment. Sam picked the lock on room 101 and the door creaked open. Lucifer strolled through. “This is what I’m talking about, Sam,” he explained, leaning against the wall. “Real interaction again. I miss that the rapier wit, the wittier rape.” Sam ignored him and walked past, and the devil frowned. “Come on.” He clasped his wrist across his stomach and pouted innocently. “I’ll be good.”

Alex strolled further into the empty room while Sam checked under the mattress, pushing her grace out for any signs of something strange. 

“I’ll even help you solve your little Nancy Drew mystery of whatever,” the devil persisted, and Alex snorted. “Cross my heart,” he added, voice a little hurt. He wandered a little closer when Sam moved over to the desk. “No note.” Alex moved towards Sam as he unlocked the drawers, and, pulling open the bottom one, picked up a small box. “Hmm,” the devil hummed. “A cell phone scrambler. But Luci, those are illegal.” He let out a small grin when Alex made an amused sound at his monologuing, which only spurred him to continue. “Think, Sam. Maybe this has something to do with Dean’s telephone blackout.” 

Sam quickly searched the rest of the drawer, but, finding nothing, got to his feet and hurried over to the dresser, and Alex watched, crossing her arms as Lucifer moved to stand beside her. 

“There’s nothing supernatural in the room,” she said as Sam searched through the drawers of clothing. “Maybe we should drive around town and see if we can spot his car, huh?” 

Lucifer shook his head, and when Alex looked up he had his thumb and middle finger resting against his mouth, pointer tapping his forehead as he watched Sam work. “Big brother will be dead by then. Keep looking, Sam.” Sam pulled open the top drawer and pushed the contents around; he turned around when he found nothing, but paused. 

Alex watched as he turned back the drawer and rapped twice on the bottom, then pulled the whole thing out and dumped it on the bed, dropping it upside down. A metal box was tied to the underside, and Sam pulled it free to open the squeaking lid. The young angel hurried around to see the papers he held in his hand. “Hmm,” the devil hummed. “Latin. Not suspicious at all.”

Sam grabbed the papers and hurried out of the apartment, leaving Alex and Lucifer to follow him out into the alley. Alex moved to walk on his left, the devil on his right. “I’ve never seen this spell before,” Sam finally said, staring down at the page. 

“No,” Lucifer agreed, “but you’ve seen this _type_.”

“A demon summoning spell?” Sam glanced over at the archangel in confusion. “Why?”

“To summon a demon, jackass.” Lucifer pointed at the paper. “Start looking at who.”

“Sam,” Alex snapped. “Stop talking to him, dammit,” she rounded on the Winchester, causing him to stop in his tracks. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” 

“Hey, I don’t like it any more than you do,” Sam started, and Lucifer made a hurt noise, “but he can help save Dean.”

“ ‘Save Dean?’ ” Alex repeated scoffingly. “You serious? He doesn’t give a rat’s ass about Dean. Whatever he’s doing, it’s just a means to an end. If you give him an inch, he’s gonna take a mile, Sam. I’ve seen it happen, so if you’re in control here —”

“Alex. I know. But Dean’s in trouble.” Sam turned to face the devil, who was grinning. “Okay. What do you mean.” 

“Look at the page,” Lucifer prompted, and when Sam did he added, “You know that handwriting.”

“I know this handwriting,” Sam said simultaneously. He looked over at Alex. “It’s Nora’s.” 

“Nora?” Alex repeated. “Wiccan Witch of the West Nora?” Sam hurried off towards the car and Alex ran after him. “Hey!” she yelled. “Wait for me.” 

 

 **A** lex brushed her fingers over the locked door of the Wiccan’s Web door, and Sam turned the knob, stepping inside. Alex followed, angel blade slipping into her hands, and her head tipping in confusion when Lucifer wasn’t on the other side. Sam drew his gun and crossed the room, opening one of the wooden double doors that led into Nora’s office. Alex followed, and there they found Lucifer, sitting at the desk with his hands casually resting on his head. Sam looked around and, finding no one, slipped his gun into his jeans and stepped through the door. 

Alex saw Lucifer give a tiny shake of his head of _no, no, don’t do that_ , and she pushed her grace out to feel the presence of another human just inside the room. “Sam—”

Nora jumped out as Sam took another step, swinging something large and black down over the hunter’s head. Alex jumped forward and Lucifer cringed. “ _Ay caramba!”_ he winced, holding his head. “ _Mi cabeza!”_

Alex pulled Nora away as Sam stumbled to his feet, wrenching the black vase out of her hands and throwing it across the room. Sam spun around to face her, eyes blazing. “Nora, stop it!” he snapped as the woman struggled. “Calm down! What is this?” He held up the demon summoning spell, voice rising into a shout. “What is this? Why did Jeffrey have a demon summoning spell in _your_ handwriting?”

Nora went limp in Alex’s grasp, and she let go, stepping away as the woman trembled. “Everything’s happening the way he said, the way he planned it,” she whimpered, the fight in her gone. 

“What plan?!” Sam snapped. 

Nora didn’t answer. “You can’t help — you can’t change it,” she continued, numbly shaking her head, voice and eyes distant. 

“Hit her.” Lucifer got up out of the chair and circled around the desk. 

Alex glared at him, shaking her head. “Luce,” she scolded, mouth hanging open in disbelief. “ _No.”_

Nora sat down on the plaid couch, and Sam looked down at her. “Nora, tell me what’s going on.” 

“Sam,” Lucifer reiterated, this time with more force, “shake her up. She knows what happened to Dean. Get that stupid cow to focus, will you?”

Sam obeyed, dropping to his knees and pointed a finger in her face, voice growing sharp. “Nora, listen to me! Whatever it is, you should be a lot more scared of me right now because I’m two inches away from you, and I can make you talk. Do you understand me?” 

Lucifer nodded approvingly, shooting Alex a look, and she rolled her eyes. However, she reluctantly had to admit that it worked; Nora started crying, finally giving in. “It’s my son,” she sobbed. “He has my son!” Nora broke down sobbing.

“Who? The demon?” 

Nora looked up at Sam, eye wide. “Not the demon. Jeffrey!” 

“Jeffrey?” Alex’s wings flared out as she connected the dots. “Son of a bitch. So you mean to say that the guy who you exorcised the demon is he’s trying to get said demon _back?_ Great. Really.” She crossed her arms. “I mean, at least demons are predictable. Angels are predictable. Vampires and ghosts are all predictable? Humans? Not at all.” Lucifer voiced his agreement, and Alex sighed. “Okay. I can search the town. Maybe I can at least recognize Dean’s soul.”

“Yeah,” Sam agreed, moving to sit on the corner of the desk. “Do that.” 

“What is she talking about?” Nora looked over at Alex. “Is she —”

“Angel,” Alex explained curtly, leaning against the wall. “Yeah, we’re real.” She closed her eyes and let her grace trickle outwards, slowly but surely working her way out of the building. 

“I kept tabs on Jeffrey after the exorcism,” she heard Nora say, voice sounding like it was in the distance, and not five feet from where she stood. “I even sent him care packages in the hospital, but he never responded. And then, not long ago, he came to me. He seemed healthy, put together, except he wanted to know if there was a way to summon the demon back. He said he’d been doing some research. It was mostly nonsense, but he was convinced it was possible.”

“You really knocked the cork out of her piehole,” Lucifer said, and Alex smirked, pushing her grace out further and further, touching every soul she could find in hopes that it was Dean. 

“I sent him away,” Nora continued. “I told him to get some more help. The next day, he called me.” Her voice trembled. “He put my son on the phone. He had taken him from his dorm room.” Alex heard movement, and then Nora’s voice was somewhere different. “I gave him everything. The ritual, the sigils. But he kept my boy. And then he sent me this.”

Alex heard a drawer slide open and she curiously pulled her grace in to feel the human flesh. She opened her eyes in confusion. She heard Sam open the box and close it again, and before Alex could ask what it was Nora said, “My baby’s ear. He cut it off because the ritual didn’t work.”

“Well . . .” Sam finally said, “that demon gave up some serious state secrets. Would have gone into big lockdown in Hell. Not so easy to bring him back.”

“Jeffrey didn’t care. He told me to find out what went wrong or else. Finally, I found a spell that would work for sure. And that’s when he said I had another job to do.”

“Which was what?”

“When you came, I was suppose to send you to Jeffrey.” Nora trembled slightly at her next words. “He left a trail of bodies to make sure of it.”

Alex’s grace hit a wall, and she frowned, pushing against the sigils. Unable to get inside, however, she reeled her grace back into her body. 

“ ‘Blood of the exorcist?’ ” Sam was holding an old book that contained the summoning spell.

“Strongest summoning I’ve ever seen,” Nora agreed. “Requires the blood of the exorcist who banished him — your brother. You see? It’s all part of Jeffrey’s plan?” 

Alex got to her feet, and Sam glanced back at her. “Well?” he asked, voice urgent. “Where’s Dean?” 

“No idea.” Alex walked over to the humans, feathers rustling as she shrugged. “I searched the whole town; couldn’t find his soul.” 

“He’s probably dead,” Lucifer added in a stage whisper, hand coming up over his mouth. 

Alex ignored him. “I did find a building, though. Couldn’t search it; too many sigils. It’s on the west edge of town. If I had to place a bet, that’s where they are.” 

“Okay, well, new plan.” Sam dropped the book in front of Nora and pointed at the open pages. “Tracking spell. Bavarian, Egyptian, I don’t care — dealer’s choice. Use the flesh of the body to find the body.” He put the small box with the ear down on the book before adding, “And Dean.” Nora shook her head, eyes wide, and Sam’s voice grew sharp. “Do you want the _ear_ or the kid?”

Lucifer grinned. “You’re giving me the chills.”

Nora shakily nodded and set to work, and Alex crossed her arms, watching her move. “So all of these killings were Jeffrey,” she finally said. “So what? He’s actually a serial killer? That — that list he said the demon drilled into his mind was his? Wow.”

“Here.” Nora pointed to the map of the town she had spread out on the table, where a watermark had moved to a small one block radius on the west side of town. “They’re here.”

“Okay. Let’s go.” 

 

 **T** en minutes later Alex jumped out of Nora’s, gaze flitting across the large warehouse in front of her. Large sigils were painted on the windows high above, and Alex’s grace shuddered as she followed Sam towards the doors.With a brush of her grace the door sprang open, and the minute she stepped through the door Alex felt the pressure pushing down. However, her grace was able to push back against it and escape, swirling through the building; one of the sigils must have been done incorrectly. “There.” She pointed down the hallway before picking up speed. “Demon.”

“Not much to work with. No natural gift.” Alex heard the voice before she even reached the red door. “I’ll probably burn this meat off on my way to Vegas.”

Sam slipped past her as she threw open the door, fingers clenched around a metal pipe. Alex ran after him and slid to a stop as and a man spun around, blood covering the right side of his face and shoulder. The Winchester swung the pipe, and the demon lunged forward, wrestling it away from him with several well-aimed punches and throwing the Winchester across the room. Sam hit the ground with a thud, and Alex jumped forward, positioning herself between Sam and the demon as her angel blade fell into her hand. 

“Alex!” she heard Sam warn, but she held her ground. “Don’t kill him!” 

“Ah. One of heaven’s finest,” the demon taunted, stalking forward, eyes flashing black. “Can’t say I’m —” Suddenly he froze mid-step, and his head fall back so he could look upwards. “You’ve _got_ to be kidding me,” he snarled, and Alex looked up to see a devil’s trap painted on the ceiling above. 

“You let go of my son!” Nora shakily walked to stand by Alex, and she held out an arm, motioning for her to stop.

The demon laughed. “Where do you keep coming from?” he growled, shifting forward, only to be blocked once again by the devil’s trap. Dean circled around so he could stand on her other side, and Alex let her angel blade slide back up into her sleeve, turning her body to look at the Winchester. Dean held up a hand, signally that he was fine.

Movement had Alex’s head snapping up to watch a young man pull himself to his feet. In his hands was the demon knife, and he took three, unsteady steps toward the demon, a snarl on his face. 

Dean reacted the fastest. In one swift movement he drew his gun, and a shot echoed through the dark building. The man — Alex immediately assumed it to be Jeffrey — stopped, eyes going wide. A second shot brought him to his knees, and the man drew in a bubbly breath before collapsing to the ground. Alex blinked in surprise at the dead man, but turned her attention back to the more pressing matter at hand.

Nora held out a hand and took a deep breath. “ _Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas —_ ”

The demon laughed as Nora continued the exorcism, looking over at Dean. “He’ll be back, you know,” he promised. “Back in black.”

“Go to hell.”

“— _omnis congregatio et sect diabolica. Ergo, draco maledicte, ecclesiam tuam, secura tibi facias libertate servire, te rogamus, audi nos!”_

The demon threw back its head in a painful scream, and black smoke poured from his mouth, spiraling out into the sky. The boy he was possessing dropped to his knees, and Nora hurried forward to hold him as he slowly became conscious. “Mom?” the young man finally got out.

Nora pulled her son close as his eyes fluttered shut. “I got you,” she promised. 

Alex quickly crossed the room to kneel down beside her. “Let me see,” she insisted carefully, reaching out to feel the side of the boy’s head. The ear was gone, but Alex stretched her grace into the wound, stitching together what she could and searching for any other signs of damage. “He’s going to be okay,” she promised, pulling back. She looked down at the dead body a few feet away. “I take it that’s Jeffrey.” 

“Yeah.” Dean walked over to him and waved his brother over. “Come here and help me with this.”

Alex stood up, and Lucifer appeared beside her, smirking. “What’s so funny?” she grumbled, watching as the two Winchesters hoisted the body onto Dean’s back. 

Lucifer didn't answer her question. “I see you got Dean back. Glad I could help.” He looked down at Alex’s face and frowned in mock hurt. “You still don’t trust me. You know I’ll never lie to you, Alex.” 

Alex glanced over her shoulder to see that none of the humans in the room here paying her any attention. “I don’t trust you with Sam,” the young angel said brusquely. “Never mind about me; the only reason you’re here is to beat him into the ground.”

The devil hesitated, and Alex watched as the two Winchesters made their way to the door. “I wouldn’t say that’s the _only_ reason,” he finally defended. Then he was gone, and Alex hurried after her friends. 

 

 **T** he sun was coming up when they got back to the motel. Alex unlocked the door, watching as Dean promptly collapsed on the far bed. Sam sat down on his own, but the angel stayed by the door, leaning against it. “God,” Dean muttered, burying his face into the comforter. “Oh.”

“So, Jeffrey was just pretending to be the victim,” Sam finally said. “Way back in that farmhouse during the exorcism, h-he was just . . . acting.”

“He was a psychopath, Sam,” Dean mumbled against the sheets. “That’s all they do all the time is act. Act like they’re normal, act like they’re not balls-to-the-walls crazy.”

Sam didn’t disagree. “You going to sleep?” he asked instead.

“Damn straight. Screw consciousness, that’s what I say.” 

Alex huffed in amusement. “I’m going to go grab some breakfast,” she volunteered. “Let me guess; something a side of bacon and a lot of coffee.” When Dean groaned something of a ‘yes’ she nodded. “Okay. Be back in five.” She closed the door and strolled over to their car, gaze wandering up towards the sky. The angel let out a long breath, wings falling down in hurt as she watched a young couple walk out of their motel room, fingers threaded together as they laughed in quiet voices. An ache settled over her heart, and she did her best to push it away. 

Thunder crackled in the distance as the angel reached their car parked on the far side of the lot, and with a sigh she looked up at the grey clouds. Not keen on getting wet, she reluctantly turned back around and crossed the pavement once again to their room. She jiggled open the rickety door and stopped. 

Fire filled the room, crackling on the floor and on the bed. Sam sat with his back to her, shoulders tense, and the devil stood beside him, leaning forward with a dark laugh. “Come on!” he was yelling. “Say it with me now. Good morning Vietnam!” 

“Lucifer!” Alex stepped forward, eyes wide and voice sharp. “ _No.”_


	37. Out With the Old

**T** he sun was rising across the lake, and Alex tugged her wings in tighter around her, watching the light slowly furl out over the water. Dean paced on the pier behind her, voice sharp with frustration, but he was too far away for Alex to make out each and every word. She knew he was talking to Frank Devereaux; and that was all she cared to know. Sam was taking a walk; Alex had spent most of the night out by the lake, but she knew Lucifer had kept the Winchester up for the better part of the night. 

Footsteps approached, and Alex looked up. Sam was walking down the road, a cup of coffee in one hand, a newspaper in the other. Lucifer was nowhere in sight, and Alex scrambled to her feet, hurrying up the gravel path to greet him. “Hey!” she chirped, clearing her over-excited voice to get it back under control. “Uh, hey. How are you doing?” 

“Tired, but I’ll live.” 

“He’s a crazy son of a bitch,” Dean muttered, walking up to them and shutting his phone.

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Frank?” 

“You know, having a crazy total paranoid as your go-to guy, that’s — that’s . . . I don’t know what that is.” Dean shook his head and watched Sam take a long sip of his coffee. “What are you going for, like, the Guinness record of caffeine consumption? That’s like your fifth this morning.”

Alex looked up at Sam, concerned by that fact, but he only shrugged. “Yeah, well, every time I close my eyes, Lucifer is yelling into my head. It’s like I let him in once, now I can’t get rid of him.”

“You know he’s not actually . . .”

“Yeah. Yeah, no. I know.” With forced humor Sam added, “Uh, try telling that to the volume control inside my brain .” 

“Well, did you try the hand thing?” 

“Yeah. Anyways, as long as I’m up, check it out.” Sam handed the newspaper to Dean, and Alex shifted so she could look up over his arm. “They’re saying drugs, but read between the lines. Sounds like she danced her own feet off. Might be our kind of thing.” 

Dean nodded. “Dancers,” he grinned. “They are toe shoes full of crazy.”

Sam and Alex exchanged looks. “You — and you would know this how?”

“I saw ‘Black Swan.’ Twice.” Dean looked between his brother and the angel and immediately grew defensive. “Hot tutu-on-tutu action? Come on, guys. What’s wrong with you?” 

“Ew.” Alex pulled a face. “Ballet is . . . no. Ugh. Why do the guys have to wear such tight pants? It’s gross.” She grinned when Dean rolled his eyes, shaking his head. 

“Anyways. The case is in Portland, a couple hours away. What do you think?” 

“I think we should.” Alex immediately voted. “Come on. Someone danced their own _feet_ off? How cool is that?” She moved towards the Firebird they had hijacked a few days ago, hand going to open the backdoor. 

“Why not,” Dean agreed, following after her. To Sam he added, “Maybe you’ll get some sleep on the way.” 

“Yeah, maybe.” Sam got into the front seat as Dean started the car.

Alex leaned in between them, a frown on her face. “I can maybe help you sleep,” she suggested. “Might be able to knock you out.”

She heard Lucifer’s chuckle from beside her. “You really think your grace can compete with mine? Let’s face it, angel; Sam’s _my_ little bitch.”

Alex glared at him but leaned forward all the same, resting her palm on Sam’s temple, pushing her grace inside his skull. She immediately felt Lucifer’s grace like a wall, burning cold against her. It twisted around her, and she heard him chuckle before she was forcefully shoved away. 

Alex’s grace snapped back into her body, and as her eyes came back into focus she saw Sam clutching his head. “Sam?” 

“Alex!” Dean snapped. “What the hell did you do?”

“Nothing! It was Lucifer!” Her wings fluttered as the pain and ringing subsided. “Ow,” she complained. “That fucking hurt, Luce.” She felt his grace stir within her, almost like he was trying to apologize, and she forcefully pushed it down, crossing her arms and ruffling her feathers. “Just drive,” she muttered. 

 

**June 27, 2012**

**Portland, Oregon**

**A** lex followed the Winchesters into the Portland Police Station, subconsciously wiping her hands off on her pants. She and Sam had gone to check out what remained of the crime scene while Dean had talked to the dancers — on his own insistence, of course. Even though it had been more than 24 hours and they were just starting to clean up the dance studio where the woman had been found, Alex still felt like she had blood all over her. However, it had been supernaturally clean; no sulphur, no EMF, no signs of anything to suggest this was anything more than a freak accident. And Alex would have believed it too, if it weren’t for the small fact that the dancer had literally danced her feet clean off. Straight through the tissue, the bone, the ligaments. Through everything.

They walked up to the front desk where two officers were deep in conversation. The one behind the desk glanced up at them for only a second when Dean cleared his throat before laughing at his friend’s joke, and Alex’s wings twitched impatiently as she watched Lucifer materialize behind him, leaning against the interior windows. 

Eventually the policeman walked away, and the officer behind the desk turned his attention to the three of them. “Hi,” Sam began. 

“Yeah?”

The Winchester seemed slightly taken aback by the man’s coldness. “Uh, we’d like to see the crime-scene photos from the Irina Koganzon case, please.”

The officer looked the three of them up and down. “And you would be . . .” 

“Oh.” Dean reached into his jacket pocket and Alex quickly did the same, fingers tightening around her wallet. She pulled it out and flipped it open so the officer could see. 

If anything, the officer seemed less than impressed. “Give me a minute,” he told them and walked away. 

Alex watched him go with a frown. “Take your time,” she muttered after him. “It's not like we’re in a hurry or anything.” She turned around and leaned her back against the front desk, fingers drumming on the polished wood counter as she studied Sam. “You gonna be able to stay awake?” she half-teased when his eyes drooped downwards. When he didn’t answer, she sighed. “We’ll get this fixed,” she promised, “I’ll find a way.”

She heard Lucifer chuckle behind her. “That’s right,” he mocked. “You keep feeding him that hope. It’ll be all that much worse when you fail.”

Alex let out a sharp breath through her nose, biting down on the inside of her lower lip to keep from snapping back a retort. Instead she curled her fingers into the counter’s ledge and inhaled deeply. The officer returned, holding a folder. “Evidence room is down that way,” he said, pointing through a door to Alex’s left. “Straight through.” 

He walked away without another word, and Alex and Dean exchanged looks. Sam set the folder down on the front desk and opened it up to reveal a picture of Irina Koganzon as she had been found. She was laying in a pile of blood, the picture solidifying the testimony of the officers at the crime scene; Koganzon’s feet were gone, and the bloody stubs at where her calves used to be were lying in a giant pool of blood. 

“Yeah, I’d call that weird,” Dean agreed as he shuffled to the next photo, which clearly displayed a pair of satin ballet shoe, spotless despite the blood pooling around them. He looked down at Alex, and she nodded at the unspoken words in his eyes. _Cursed object._ “Come on. Let’s check them out.” He led the way down the hall and into the room they had been directed to. 

Alex dug out her badge as Sam and Dean did the same at the sight of a stocky, middle-aged officer taking inventory. “Hey there,” Sam began. “How are you doing?” 

“Okay. What can I do for you fellas?” 

“Well, we need to see the shoes that were involved in the ballet dancer’s death.” 

The officer’s gaze flitted across the three of them before he just shrugged. “Didn’t think it’d be an FBI deal, but sure. Yeah, right here.” He turned around and then he stopped, shoulders falling in disbelief. “Dammit, Tracy.”

“Who’s Tracy?” 

“My daughter,” the officer explained. “She loves ballet.” After a second’s pause he added, “She just went to the bathroom. She should be back any minute.” 

“Uh, excuse us a second.” Sam almost literally _dragged_ Alex out of the room, and her wings flared up in protest once they were out in the hall alone. She opened her mouth to snap, but the Winchesters were already moving towards the ladies bathroom.

Alex hurried after them, slipping past and shoving open the door. She slid to a stop to see a young girl, no more than twelve, sitting on the floor, ballet slippers on her feet. “Hey!” the angel snapped, grace pushing out before she yanked it back at the dark energy in the tiled room. “Take those off.” 

In response the girl was yanked to her tiptoes as if by an invisible rope, and her eyes went wide with fear. 

“Guys!” Alex called. “Get in here!” She hesitated as the Winchester ran in behind her, not sure what to do as Tracy began to spin. “It’s the shoes,” she explained in a rushed breath as they rushed past her. 

Sam grabbed the young girl around the waist, pulling her to the ground as Dean wrapped his arms around her kicking legs. “Dean!” he yelled. “Get the shoes!”

“I’m trying! Alex!” he yelled as a foot caught him in the head. “Help, dammit!” Alex nodded and ran over to Dean, grabbing a foot and ripping the slipper off. She tossed it behind her and knelt to the ground, holding the leg completely still as Dean pulled the second one off and threw it towards the other. “I got it, I got it!” Dean yelled as the girl fell still, no longer under the object’s spell.

“I’m going to go with cursed object,” Alex finally suggested, out of breath as she glanced warily at the pink shoes. 

“You think?” 

Alex ignored his statement, crossing the room to scoop up the two shoes, ignoring Sam’s warning to be careful. She turned them around, studying the cursed ballet shoes carefully. “ ‘Out with the Old,’ ” she read before turning to the two Winchester’s, pointing to the sticker on the inside of the left shoe. “I’m thinking that might be our next stop.”

“Yeah,” Sam agreed, helping the young girl to her feet. “I suppose it’s too much to hope that those shoes are the only thing in that store we have to worry about.” 

“Probably.” Alex tossed the shoes at the hunter’s feet. “Although, honestly? Who would curse old shoes anyways? I mean, that’s — that’s just weird.” 

 

 **T** en minutes after getting directions to _Out with the Old_ Antique Shop from Alex’s phone, Dean pulled the Firebird into a parking space on the corner of the shop-lined Main Street. Alex looked up from her phone only to let out a cry and a curse, wings flaring out as she jumped to her feet the best she could. “Holy fucking hell,” she snapped, glaring down at the ballet shoes that sat on the seat beside her. “I —”

“Didn’t we put those in the trunk?” Sam’s face mirrored Alex’s confusion, and she kicked open her door to put some distance between her and the cursed object, grace flicking in and out like a snake’s tongue in an attempt to get rid of the taint. “How d-did they —”

“Cursed object, Sam.”

Sam looked at his brother, and then back at the shoes. Then he looked back at Dean once more. “Do they … look like they’re … your size?”

“Shut up.”

“Wait, a-are you —?”

“Getting the strong urge to Prince Siegfried my way into oblivion?” Dean finished. “Yes.” 

Alex snorted in amusement at his words, and Sam stared at his brother in amazed disbelief. “You really did see ‘Black Swan.’ ”

Dean refused to give a direct answer, and after a second or two got out of the car. “Where’s this store?” he asked instead. 

Alex shook her head in amusement at his unwillingness to answer before pointing down the street. She took a step back as Sam got out of the car, giving him only enough room to get the door open. “You should take the shoes.” Sam pointed at the ballerina slippers with a look of disgust and distrust in his features. “And, uh, keep them away from Dean.” 

“Why do I have to take the shoes?” Alex complained, but nevertheless leaned forward to hook her fingers around the satin laces. “They feel nasty. Like sticking your hand in a smoker’s lungs.” When both Winchesters frowned at her she added defensively, “We’ve gotten some weird bodies back at Bobby’s.” She shrugged nonchalantly. “Some of them smoked. Sue me. Point is, it’s not pleasant, okay?” She slammed the car door behind her and looked down the street. “Let’s just get these things back into the store, alright?” She lifted an eyebrow, as if daring them to protest.

Neither Winchester disagreed, and Sam led the way down the street. He stopped beside the antique shop, and Alex noticed the _Going out of Business_ banner hanging in the front window as she followed Sam in through the glass door.

“Hello?” Sam called, looking around. A man was mopping the floor some feet away, and he looked up as they entered. He was much older than either of the Winchesters, with dark, greying hair, but the first thing Alex noticed was the shirt he was wearing. It was brown with little lines of color, with a design straight out of the _Brady Bunch_. He was also wearing a dark grey cardigan. Sam motioned to the shoes Alex was holding. “Did you sell these?” 

“Uh, yeah.” The man gave a half-hearted shrug.

“Where did you get them?” Sam’s voice grew sharp with anger, and the man’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Uh, m-my m-mother had them in that box.” The man pointed to a box on the desk behind them, and Alex dropped the shoes onto the display case at her side before crossing over to the desk to study the box. She pushed her grace against it as she opened the lid to see a red velvet padding at the bottom, perfectly molded for two pairs of slippers. She heard the man say, “I-I don’t understand. What’s happening?”

“Sam.” Alex called the hunter over as she held up the box to reveal the sigils painted on the inside. 

Sam took three steps towards her before glancing back at Dean and spinning around. “Hey!” he snapped. “Hey hey hey!” He snatched the shoes out of his brother’s hands, who was staring at them, transfixed. Alex hurried back to him, box open, and Sam dropped the shoes inside and slammed the lid shut. “Geez! You okay there, Baryshnikov?” 

“Yeah.” Dean blinked, eyes refocusing on them as he half-joked, “Yeah, I’m _pas de done.”_

Alex narrowed her eyes incredulously at his pun and set the box down on display case away from the Winchester. “Okay,” the store owner began, “if it’s not to much trouble, do you mind telling me, uh, what’s — what’s going on?”

Sam and Dean flashed their badges, and Alex hurried to do the same, folding it back up and sliding it into her pocket before the man could study it too closely. “FBI,” she explained. “What’s your name?” 

“Uh, Scott. Scott Freeman.” Scott answered in a nervous tone, his hands shaking slightly.

“You said these were your mother's?” Sam asked, motioning towards the warded wooden box. “Where’d she get them?” 

“I don’t know,” Scott insisted. “I found them in the back.”

“Got it.” Dean disappeared into the back room, and Alex followed, eyes immediately going to the two open chests that sat on the table. 

She picked them up, fingers tracing over the intricate engravings, and her grace tingled. “Yeah, this is it,” Alex confirmed as Dean picked them up, adding with a mutter. “Great.” 

“Sam!” Dean carried them back into the main room, a deep-set frown across his face. 

Sam Winchester’s face mimicked his brother’s when he saw the empty boxes, and his voice grew harsh. “Scott? What was in those boxes?” 

Scott looked between Sam and Dean, eyes widening in fear at their tones. “Okay, what the hell kind of FBI guys are you?” 

“The kind that are trying to fix the mess that you started,” Sam snapped. “Now where’d your mom get these?”

“I don’t know. I found them in her safe.” The man pointed past them into a room where a large, iron safe sat in the corner. The door was open, revealing more sigils painted in white, and Alex frowned. 

“Did it ever occur to you that those things were locked in that safe for a reason?” 

“No,” Scott said defensively, “I — I just thought it was some of the junk she had collected over the years. Like, I knew she was into some weird stuff, but I never thought she’d be, like—”

“Yeah, well think again, okay? ‘Cause this _junk_ is killing people.”

“What? How can that be?” 

Sam shook his head. “Look, Scott. We’re going to need to know exactly what you sold out of that safe and names and addresses to whom you sold it to.” 

 

 **D** ean pulled the charger up alongside a two story home, and Alex jumped out of the car, pushing her grace out and into the home. “We’re too late,” she told the Winchesters as they started to get out of the car, shaking her head as she pulled her grace away from the soulless corpse. “Listen. You two go get the other things. I’ll take care of what’s here. What am I looking for?” 

“Uh, she bought a tea kettle,” Sam read from the list, pausing halfway out of the car. 

“Tea kettle? Okay, got it. I’ll meet you guys back at the antique store, okay?” When the Winchesters nodded and drove away, Alex hurried up the steps to the porch. Her grace snaked out and into the lock, pushing the pins upwards until the doorknob twisted and the door sprung open. The angel slipped inside the house, feet silent on the tile floors as she moved through the living room and into the kitchen. A woman lay on the floor, the same dead body Alex had originally felt. Her mouth and throat were red and raw, the skin badly burned. A tea kettle lay just out of her outstretched reach, and Alex’s wings twitched at the heavy pressure that surrounded it. 

She knelt down and picked it up, grace groaning out its protest as she did so. Then she dug out her cellphone and dialed 911. “Hey. I’d like to report a, uh, accident. Address is 23 Gorham Road.” When the woman asked for her name, Alex replied. “My name?” she repeated, “Uh, yeah. My name is —” She hung up. 

The angel made sure to lock the door on her way out, twisting the lock behind her as she jumped down the porch stairs. reaching the sidewalk she looked both ways before she crossed the street and started towards town.

She had just turned the corner when she heard sirens, and only a minute later two police cars sped passed, lights flashing and sirens screaming. The angel dug her phone out of her pocket and shoved in her headphones into her ears, doing her best to remain inconspicuous as she carried the large, cursed teapot down the street. _Renegade_ by Styx started playing, and Alex sighed, focusing on the music as her feet carried her away. 

 

 **A** lex pushed her way into Going Out with the Old Antique Store just as the sun brushed the very tops of the buildings around her on its downward descent. “Scott?” she called as the door swung closed behind her. “Hey. I got the tea kettle.” She crossed the room and opened the spell-bound box that housed the kettle. Once she had snapped the lid shut she looked around. “Scott?” 

“Back room,” came the reply, and Alex walked into the room see Scott Freeman knelt beside a handful of cardboard boxes. 

“Hey,” Alex repeated. “I got the kettle. What are you doing?” 

“Just packing up some stuff.” The older man glanced up at the angel for only a second. “My mom sold the shop before she . . . passed, so I need to start packing things.” 

Alex heard the tinge of pain in her voice, and her sympathy swelled up. “When did she die?”

“Last week.”

“I’m sorry. I, uh, I lost someone close to me last month — closest thing to a father I’ve ever had.” Alex looked over at the wall clock to see it was only a little past five o'clock. “Want some help?” she offered. “I’m stuck here until the other two get back. I know what I’m doing,” she added. “I worked at an antique shop in Sioux Falls a few summers back.” 

Scott studied her for a second, trying to determine her motive before shrugging. “Sure,” he finally agreed. “I suppose you can start packing up the sale records.” He pointed to the file cabinet on the other side of the room before going back to his work.

“Sounds good.” Alex grabbed a box and moved towards the metal cabinet. “My name’s Alex, by the way.” When Scott didn’t respond she dug out her headphones, choosing to lose herself in her music instead. 

 

 **T** he bell on the door jingled, announcing the arrival of Dean. Alex’s grace brushed against his soul only momentarily before she pulled away, setting down the folders into the box and removing her headphones. “Dean?” she called, entering the main room. 

The Winchester was already halfway to the safe; at her arrival he shot her a small nod. “How long have you been here?” 

The angel shrugged. “Half hour, no more. Don’t worry; I kept busy.” She crossed the room to walk by his side. “What’s that?” 

“Cursed porn.” Dean shifted the wooden box in his hands slightly. Before Alex could ask he added, “Trust me. You do _not_ want to know.” 

“That sounds . . . disgusting.” Alex stopped walking, choosing to lean against door frame as Dean went to put the box in the safe. “Well, I got the tea kettle anyways. The woman had apparently drunk boiling water or something. Not really sure, but she definitely had burns on her mouth and throat.” 

“Great. Well, Sam’s getting the gramophone. That should be the last of it.”

“So my mom wasn’t just some whack job.” Scott appeared behind Alex, and she pulled her wings in closer at his close proximity. “All this stuff is real?” 

“Yep.” Dean put the warded box in the safe next to the box with the tea kettle.

“Well, now I-I feel like crap.”

“How come?” 

“I kept pushing her to sell the store,” the older man explained, features downcast. “She kept saying no, and I kept pushing her, you know, telling her how much money she’d make.” 

“You think you changed her mind?” 

“I don’t know. You know, this real estate lady kept coming around, and then one day, just like that, mom just says okay. Then she had the accident, never even got to enjoy the money.” 

Dean looked over at Alex. “How soon after?” he asked.

“The next day.”

That caught Alex’s attention, and she studied Scott. “How did she die?” 

“Car crash. You know, I keep thinking, if I hadn’t pushed her, then . . .” He trailed off, and Alex raised her eyebrows, glancing back at Dean.

The hunter nodded. “Hey, a little tip. Uh, feeling guilty ain’t gonna bring ‘em back. Best you can do is live your life the way that you think would make her proud. Or at least not embarrass the crap out of her.” When Scott nodded, letting out a small smile, Dean added. “Oh, uh . . . you know the drill, right? Don’t touch anything in those boxes. In fact, don’t even go near the safe. Once we get it all boxed up, we’ll get a UHaul and get everything out of here.” 

“Believe me, I — I got it.”

Dean nodded. “Okay. Sam will be here soon with the gramophone. He’s grabbing the U-Haul.” He looked over at Alex. “Hungry?” 

“Damn straight.” Alex followed Dean out of the store and onto the empty street. She paused when Dean did, her gaze flitting across his face before turning her head to see what he was looking at. There was a _Sold_ sign in the window. It was on a poster for Bicklebee Reality, with the picture of a dark-haired woman with the name “Joyce Bicklebee” on the lefthand side. 

Alex watched as Dean continued down the street, looking this way and that, and she started to do the same, wings twitching curiously as she saw that the majority of the shops had that exact same sign. “That’s weird,” she finally said. “Looks like they’re buying up the entire block.” She shrugged it off and turned to Dean. “There’s a diner a few blocks that way,” she said, pointing down the street. “Let’s go eat there.” She circled around to the passenger seat of the Firebird. “I’m hungry.” 

 

 **T** he sky was dark by the time Alex was sitting beside Dean in a local cafe, scraping the last of her fry crumbs off of her plate. Dean was on his laptop, and the young angel was watching him look into this Bicklebee Reality business. She was just about to ask him if he had found anything when he pulled out his cellphone and called his brother. It rang twice before Sam picked up. “Hey, what’s up? I’m on my way.” 

“Yeah, not sure we’re taking the safe out of town just yet.” A waitress walked up and poured Dean another cup of coffee, and he thanked her with a smile and a “Thanks.” When she walked away he continued. “Um, so it turns out mama hoarder didn’t just die and leave the store to Scott.”

“She didn’t?” Sam sounded tired, and Alex’s wings twitched in sympathy. 

“No, listen to this. The woman spends forty years trying to keep the place, right? Then one day, she wakes up and sells. Next day, drives her car over a cliff.”

Sam grunted, agreeing that it sounded strange. “So, uh . . . what, you think somebody cut her brakes or something?”

“No, I think the world if full of hilarious coincidences. Oh, and there’s this new company.” Dean moved the mouse on his laptop in a quick circle to emphasis his point. “Never even tasted real estate, just gobbled up a huge chuck of Main Street. Now, I could be off the deep end here, but doesn’t that seem weird to you?” He paused, waiting for Sam to respond. When his brother didn't he prompted. “Sam? Sam?” 

“Yeah. Yeah yeah,” came the weary reply. “Yeah, sounds good. Keep me posted.” 

“Sounds good?” Dean repeated. “Are you alright?” 

The other Winchester hesitated a second before asking, “You know they say that, uh, sleep deprivation is an enhanced interrogation technique?” 

“Yeah.”

“Trust me, it’s torture.” Sam hung up, and the line went dead. 

Dean looked over at Alex, whose eyes flickered up to meet his. “You catch all that?” he asked. When she nodded he added, “You sure there’s nothing you can do for him?” 

Alex shrugged. “I don’t even know where to begin,” she admitted. “Lucifer’s got a pretty good grip on his noggin; he threw me out within seconds. I’ll keep trying, but I’m at a loss here.”

“Yeah, but can you call anyone?”

“Like who? Heaven’s a bit busy picking up the pieces after Cas’ little warpath. Crowley won’t give a damn, and even then he’ll be looking for something in return, and there’s no way I’m standing in debt to the damn King of Hell unless I have to.” Seeing the look on Dean’s face she sighed. “This might be something Sam can get under control on his own. If it gets worse, I’ll do what I have to.” 

Dean turned back to his computer, and Alex rested her head briefly against his shoulder as he dragged the cursor to the top of the screen and clicked on a small link that read _Corporate Contact_. He was immediately brought to a halt when the link failed. “Son of a bitch,” he cursed under his breath. 

Alex quickly read the message on the screen. “ ‘We’re sorry, the site you’re trying to access has been blocked.’ That’s weird.” She looked at the logo on top of the words. “Geothrive Inc.”

Dean flipped his phone back open and dialed another number, and Alex leaned closer as a tetchy voice answered, “This better be good.” 

“Frank, hey. I don’t mean to double-dip in your crazy sauce, no offense —”

“None taken, fudge pop.”

“That’s Frank?” Alex asked, tipping her head to look up at Dean. “He’s more grumpy than I imagined. A lot less intimidating.”

“Who’s that?” came the grumpy reply. 

“She’s not important,” Dean promised, shifting the phone to his other ear. “I told you about Alex, right? Yeah. Anyways, I think I found something.” 

There was a pause, and then Frank prompted, “My silence is your cue, Dean.”

“Alright. So, there’s this new company that’s buying up a whole bunch of these, uh, mom-n-pops in Portland, but I hit a firewall when I tried to access its site. Think you can crack it?” 

“Can a dog play poker?” 

Dean looked over at Alex who shrugged, shaking her head in a tentative ‘no.’ “I don’t —”

“The answer is yes. What’s the company’s name?” 

“Geothrive.” Dean circled the logo with his cursor. “I — Frank?” He pulled the phone away from his ear and frowned. “Son of a bitch.” He closed his phone and dropped it on the table beside him before closing the tab on his laptop. 

“Huh. Sounds like a real charmer. How did you find him?” Before Dean could answer she added, “He’s the guy Bobby sent you to after the doppelgängers, right?”

“Yeah.” Dean closed his laptop and looked around the cafe. “You hungry?” he asked. “I could go for some pie.” 

He stood up, but Alex remained seated, dragging his laptop closer. “I’ll take lemon,” she told him. “Take your time.” He shrugged and walked away, and Alex flipped the top up, typing in Dean’s password — still _Impala1979_ — before pausing, thinking back to their earlier discussion. She grabbed pulled her phone out of her pocket and opened up her contacts, scrolling down to the one she never thought she’d actually come to use. “Does the King of Hell text?” she wondered, staring down at the number — honestly she shouldn’t have been surprised to see that his number was 666. She clicked on the message icon, thumbs dancing over the keyboard as she thought of something to say, anything. _Hey_ , she eventually ended up typing out, immediately feeling stupid even as she sent it. 

She didn’t even have time to close her phone before the reply popped up. _This better be a bloody joke, kitten._

Alex flipped her phone shut and shoved it in her pocket, glancing around to make sure no one had seen her. 

“My silence is your cue, Frank.” Dean sat back down at the table, his phone back up against his ear. 

Alex frowned. “Where’s the pie?” Dean held up a finger to silence her and she huffed, focusing on the conversation at hand. 

“Oh, touché,” the man quipped. “So, you were trying to access the Geothrive internal site, and the reason you couldn’t is cause, if you dig down deep, it’s all Dick.” 

Alex snorted in amusement, but Dean seemed less impressed. “Yeah, well, that’d be helpful if you didn’t say that about _everything_.”

“Yeah, except I’m operating on hard-facts now, wise-ass.” 

“So you’re telling me Geothrive is part of Roman Inc.?” 

“It's a conglomerate with a subsidiary within a conglomerate,” Frank agreed. “It’s all tied together, Dean.” 

Dean shifted the phone to his other ear as he pulled his laptop back towards him. “So what, Leviathans are — are Walmarting mom-n-pops?” 

“And bingo was his name-o.”

“So we’ve got a big old field in Wisconsin and bunch of fucking shops in Portland? What the hell are they up to?” Dean looked at Alex, and the young angel shrugged. Her gaze was drawn out the window as a truck with a U-Haul attached pulled up into a parking space just outside the cafe. 

“Beat me,” Frank said. “All I know is it’s corporate and smelly as the day is long. If I were you, I’d get out of Dodge, pronto.” 

Sam got out of the truck and Lucifer followed, mouth moving as he spoke. Alex didn’t bother to listen to what he was saying, and Dean’s exasperated, “People are dying here, Frank,” drowned out anything she would have wanted to hear anyways. 

She watched as Sam moved slowly towards the cafe door, and the young angel frowned to see how lethargic and slow he was moving. He entered the cafe, and Alex immediately rolled her eyes. 

_Your head is humming and it won't go, in case you don't know,_   
_The piper's calling you to join him._

The devil’s loud, incessant singing had Alex’s head falling back against the chair in disbelief. Beside her, Dean continued on his conversation, none the wiser. “Well, we’re not done here, okay, and, hey, we might get some answers.”

_Dear lady, can you hear the wind blow, and did you know_   
_Your stairway lies on the whispering wind?_

Sam sat down across from Dean, taking in a deep breath before asking, “So?” 

“Well, that’ll work,” Dean muttered.

Sam looked at Alex, who was staring at Lucifer in the seat across from her, eyes narrowed in confusion as he didn’t cease his singing. “Um, how’s it going?” he tried again. 

Dean took in a deep breath. “I just got of the phone with Frank,” he explained. “Apparently we have a bit of a Leviathan issue in this town.” 

_And as we wind on down the road_   
_Our shadows taller than our soul._

“Leviathans? Here?” 

“Yeah,” Dean agreed and Sam leaned back in his chair, head lolling back in exasperation. “We’re looking at a big, old, giant nesting doll of Dick, as far as property sales go.” 

Sam let out a long breath and glanced over at Lucifer who didn’t even seem to notice, studying his blunt fingernails as he continued to loudly sing along to Led Zeppelin. 

_There walks a lady we all know_   
_Who shines white light and wants to show_

“Hey.” Dean leaned forward in concern. “You hearing me?” 

Sam blinked and looked back at his brother. “Yeah,” he agreed. “Yeah, yeah yeah. I’m sorry.” 

“Okay, you know what? Enough with the insomnia crap, alright, Pacino? You need to crash. I’ll keep working. You find a motel and get some sleep. Okay?” 

_How everything still turns to gold._   
_And if you listen very hard_

Alex ran a hand through her hair, getting frustrated with the loud and obnoxious singing, and Sam shook his head wearily. “It doesn’t matter what I do, Dean. Lucifer will _not_ shut up.”

“He’s really hitting those high notes, isn’t he?” Alex agreed, casting a scowl in the devil’s direction. 

“Why?” Dean looked between Sam and Alex. “What’s he doing?” 

“He’s singing _Stairway to Heaven_ right now,” Sam explained. 

_The tune will come to you at last._   
_When all are one and one is all_

“Good song.” 

_To be a rock and not to roll._

“Not fifty times in a row.”

_And she's buying a stairway to —_

Alex leaned forward and placed two fingers on Sam’s head, grace flowing in and breaking part of her connection. She pulled back to see Lucifer’s mouth stop moving, a frown growing across his face. Sam looked confused. “What did you do?” 

“I muted him,” Alex snapped. “That way I can’t hear his stupid song —”

“— wasn’t very nice.” Lucifer crossed his arms and pouted in a childish fashion. Alex stared at him, eyes wide in confusion and mouth hanging open, and his own gaze darkened to as a more sinister intent slipped through his puerile facade. “You really think you can just mute me like that? The part of you’s in Sam’s head, and that is _mine_.” He leaned forward, eyes flashing. “Nothing happens without my permission, understand?” 

“What’s happening?” Dean looked at Alex, then at his brother, then back down at Alex. “What? Everything okay?”

Sam opened his mouth to respond, but at that moment his phone rang, and he jumped to answer it, perplexity dancing across his exhausted face as he saw who it was. However, he answered it nonetheless. “Hey, Scott.” 

Alex steadily held Lucifer’s cold gaze, wings flaring out in offense and fear, the gesture helping calm her nerves even in the devil couldn’t see it. The cool confidence in his grin, however, was certainly not helping in the least.

“Let me guess,” Dean said when Sam hung up the phone. “He touched something he wasn’t suppose to.” He pulled some cash out of his pocket and dropped it on the table to pay for their meal.

“Course he did.” Sam got up, and Alex followed him and Dean out of the cafe. Lucifer walked by her side, humming Zeppelin once again, but Alex did her best to ignore him, even when his humming broke out into singing once again as they got into the truck. 

_There's a lady who's sure all that glitters is gold_   
_And she's buying a stairway to heaven._   
_When she gets there she knows, if the stores are all closed_   
_With a word she can get what she came for._   
_Ooh, ooh, and she's buying a stairway to heaven_

Alex jumped out of the truck the minute Sam threw it into park, pausing when she reached the sidewalk that held Scott’s antique shop. She immediately pulsed her grace out, trying to see if she could locate the cursed object before they got there, but what she felt had her reeling to a stop. “Guys. Wait.” 

Sam and Dean both looked back at her in confusion, and the angel’s feathers ruffled in alarm. “It’s a trap,” she explained in a rushed voice. “There’s Leviathan in there. Two of them; I can feel it.” 

“Well that’s unexpected.” Lucifer had one hand cupped against his cheek, watching her carefully. Alex ignored him. 

“Shit.” Dean looked over at his brother. “You got the stuff moved into the truck, right?” 

“Well, yeah, but we don’t have any borax.”

“There’s borax in the shop,” Alex suddenly remembered. “I saw a bucket of it when I was helping pack up with Scott earlier. So we just need to get to that.” She looked up at the two Winchesters. “Between the three of us I think we can manage.”

Dean nodded, and Alex looked towards the shop. “You guys get the machetes, I’ll head in first. Maybe distract them for a second or two.” Before either Winchester could protest, she hurried up to the antique store door and rushed inside. 

She immediately recognized the woman from the Bicklebee Reality sign on the shops outside. She wore a black shirt and a white blouse under a bright red jacket. A frown was on her face when she saw the angel. “You’re not who I was expecting. It’s Alex, right? Mm mm. I haven’t seen you since we were all tucked inside that angel of yours. He really did love you, didn’t he? Shame we had to put him down.” 

“Oh I am going to enjoy killing you,” Alex promised, wings flaring out as she stalked forward. Her gaze flickered over to the second Leviathan; this one male, wearing the same red jacket with a light oxford and tie. He wasn’t watching Alex, to her surprise, but his gaze was entirely focused on the woman. 

The bell jingled as the Winchesters rushed into the store, pausing right behind Alex. “Hey,” Dean said. “You — you’re that lady from the real estate sign.” 

The woman’s attention moved to the humans. “Sam and Dean,” she greeted, and Alex stopped, wings still raised high in anger even as the Leviathan continued talking. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintances. Now, just so you can put names to the faces that’ll be eating you, I’m Joyce, and this is my assistant, George.” She nodded her head towards the second Leviathan who slowly approached. “But, yes, I am the woman from the sign. You like my photo?” 

“Oh, you might want to lay off the whitening strips,” Dean quipped, stepping forward to stand by Alex’s side, and Joyce laughed. 

“Oh, Dean. I am gonna _enjoy_ picking you out of my teeth.” She threw her head back and it morphed into the toothed wyrm-like shape of a Leviathan. She lunged towards Dean, who barely spun out of the way in time. Joyce’s arms locked around his waist, and Alex sprang towards them, barreling into the Leviathan. She heard Sam and George struggling behind her as she knocked Joyce to the ground. 

The Leviathan snarled and pinned Alex to the ground, eyes dark, and then Dean was there, bringing a heavy vase down on her head. Alex used the distraction to scramble away, wings flaring as she lashed out with her foot to catch Joyce in the chin, knocking her head upwards. Joyce jumped to her feet and wrapped her fingers in Dean’s jacket, sending him flying into a bookcase. Glass shattered, and Alex’s angel blade fell into her hand, grace pushing into the dark, twisted creature to get it’s attention. 

She heard a sizzle and a burn behind her, but didn’t dare look, digging her feet into the ground and squaring her shoulders as the Leviathan lunged at her. Hands grabbed at her jacket and Alex lashed out, and a high-pitched cry was torn from her throat as a hand grabbed hers and squeezed, and the bone in her left wrist shattered. The angel blade fell from her limp grasp, and Alex yanked herself free from the Leviathan’s hold. Something solid connected with her stomach and Alex doubled over. An elbow came down on her back, and Alex fell to the ground. 

Joyce held Alex’s blade in her hands, standing over the young angel. Alex glared back up at her, cradling her wrist as the Leviathan spoke. “You know,” she said scornfully, “It’s been a long time since I’ve been able to eat an angel. I —”

Joyce’s head slid off of her body to reveal Sam, a long sword in hand. Alex rolled out of the way as the body collapsed, wincing as she rolled onto her injured arm. “Thanks,” she panted out, sitting up. 

“You okay?” 

“I’ll live, if that’s what you mean.” Alex looked down at her wrist to see that the hand itself was awkwardly twisted. “Well fuck.” She tenderly gripped her palm, wincing at the bone-sharp pain that shot up her forearm. 

“Hey hey hey.” Sam knelt down beside her. “Don’t touch it, alright?” 

“Well I kind of have to touch it in the next five minutes otherwise it’s gonna heal gimp like this,” the angel snapped back, wings curling around her as she tried to protect herself from the pain. “Just give it a twist, okay?” She held out her hand. “Sam, please.” Her gaze slid past the hunter, and she suddenly scrambled to her feet. “The hell?” 

George stood behind them, face calm, watching. “I can help,” he suggested, stepping forward, but paused when Sam held out the sword. “She’s right about the healing, you know,” he said instead, watching as Alex slithered back to the ground with a loud groan. “You should probably realign the bones before they start healing.” 

“Why’s he still kicking?” Alex snapped as Dean knelt down beside her, cutting off in a hiss as he gingerly took her wrist in his hands. She gave him a quick nod, clenching her teeth when he twisted the bones back into place. She bit back a cry, instead letting out a strangled, “Mother of my lord and savior that _fucking hurt_.” Her grace rushed into her hand, slowly knitting back together the bone, and Alex slowly pulled herself to her feet. 

Dean quickly moved across the room to untie Scott, who had been gagged and duct taped to an antique chair. Alex grabbed Joyce’s head by the hair, and, not knowing what else to do with it, carried to over to the safe and tossed it inside. When she looked back up, Sam and Dean were in deep discussion with the store owner. “Okay,” he was saying, “I get that these things mean business you know, but I can’t just, like, uproot my life.”

“Sure you can,” Dean promised. “It’s not as hard as you would think.”

“Look, Scott. These big mouths don’t like to leave loose ends.” Sam glanced over at Alex when she grunted in agreement, skirting around the headless body in disgust. He turned his attention back to George, who was just standing by the desk, waiting. 

Dean added, “So don’t look back till you get someplace where you don’t speak the language.” 

Scott looked between Sam and Dean, and then over at Alex. She nodded, and with a reluctant nod of his own head, he gave in. “Alright. I’m going. Thanks, I guess.” He moved towards the door.

“Don’t mention it,” Sam called after him, shifting the sword in his hands as George stepped towards them. His voice immediately grew cold. “One minute,” he demanded. “That’s how long you have to explain to us why you helped us.” 

The Leviathan looked between the two Winchesters before finally speaking. “Because I’m dying to know what that bitch tastes like.” 

Alex tipped her head, and Dean blinked. “Wait, let me get this straight. You want to _eat_ your boss?” 

“You got a better way to make her stay dead?” The Leviathan’s eyebrows rose at the question, and Alex couldn’t help the strange feeling at the thought that this ancient, dead creature vaguely resembled Gabriel. 

“So what? So now you’re — you’re on our side of something?” 

“Yeah. No.” The Leviathan shook his head, swiftly dismissing Sam’s ridiculous proposal, shrugging off his red blazer and folding it over the counter. “But if Joyce is alive, then I spend the rest of my life cleaning her messes. Or worse, I get eaten.” He loosened his tie before adding, “Or bibbed.” The Leviathan dramatically shuddered before clapping his hands together. “So thanks . . . for chopping her head off for me. Taking her on solo — yikes. So, really, thanks for the assist there. And, of course,” he added, turning to Dean, “you are welcome . . . . for saving you . . . before she ripped into your ass like a Christmas present.” Dean glared at the Leviathan, who clicked his tongue and winked. “Win-win, right? So how bout that head?” 

Alex watched as Sam and Dean exchanged looks, and then Dean said, “Yeah. Not gonna happen, Georgie.” Sam held up the sword, pressing the blade into the Leviathan’s neck, and George raised his head slightly to stretch away from the sharp edge, face growing displeased. “Now . . . what the hell is Dick Roman building in Wisconsin?” 

George looked over at Alex, and the angel just shrugged. He shook his head. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I barely know where Wisconsin _is_. I’m a West Coast representative.” 

“You gonna keep killing people who don’t sign on the dotted line?” Sam added with a challenge, and the Leviathan’s gaze flickered up to him.

“Alright, take it easy.” He reached up, and Alex narrowed her eyes as he brushed his finger across the black goo before sticking his finger into his mouth. “Mmm.” He removed his finger and looked between the brothers as he slowly pushed the sword away. “Killing people isn’t part of the agenda,” he explained. “Joyce just kept getting impatient. You — you got nothing to worry about with me. Don’t you get it? You guys are freaking out about the wrong thing.” 

“Oh, you think?” Dean scoffed. 

“A couple of real estate deals?” George quipped back. “Come on. Big picture, guys. You — you think it’s just here? It’s everywhere. And it’s a lot more ambitious than this little project. My advice — keep your heads down and stay down.” 

Dean didn’t look convinced, and he took a half-step closer, voice growing dark. “Listen to me, you gooey son of a bitch. You’re gonna tell us what you’re building here, or I’m gonna wash your mouth out with soap.” 

George looked over at the bucket, and then at Alex, who shrugged. “I’d do what he says,” she agreed. “They get a bit violent when they’re pissy like this. “

“Hmm.” The Leviathan frowned. “I was hoping we could play nice. But if you must know . . . it’s going to be a research center.” 

“Research?” Alex repeated, taking a step forward. “Research for what?” 

“Disease.” A smile formed across the Leviathan’s face. “This, gentlemen, is where we’re going to cure cancer.” 

“Wait.” Sam’s face mimicked Alex’s internal confusion. “That doesn’t make any sense. I mean, why would Dick Roman want to cure cancer?” 

“Cause we’re only here to help.” 

Alex let out a scoffing noise. “Right,” she agreed. “I have a feeling eating everyone’s really going to help us.” She looked up at Sam and Dean before sighing. “I say we let him go,” she finally said. Before Sam and Dean could protest she explained, “He’s got a point. Whatever’s going on here, it’s way bigger than just this town. Wasting our time and resources with him is only going to put us further behind. I’d say let him eat his boss and then get out of his hair.”

“Thank you.” George peered past them at the body of his boss still laying on the ground. “I’ll take my boss, you can have the safe, and we each go our separate ways. No harm done. Win-win.” Sam and Dean exchanged looks, still not convinced, and he added, “Or if you prefer, I could eat you. It’s your choice.” 

“Dean, let’s just go.” Alex reached out, putting a hand on his arm to draw his gaze over to her. “I know this sounds stupid, but I think we can trust this guy, okay? Not to mention he’s actually proposing a solution where we get out _alive?_ As long as he doesn’t start killing again, there’s no point in taking him out too. Dick’s just going to keep sending in more replacements; we have to focus on the source.” 

Dean reluctantly nodded. “Yeah, yeah, okay. Fine. I don’t like it, but you’re right.” He stepped back, giving the Leviathan a straight path to Joyce’s body. “We’ll be back in the morning for the safe. You better not be here, you understand?” 

“Don’t you worry. I’ll be long gone.” George brushed past Dean before adding, “And, as always, you're welcome.” 

“Come on.” Alex picked up her angel blade and let her grace drag it back up into her sleeve as George made his way across to the safe. “Let’s just get out of here, okay? I need a nap.” 

 

 **A** lex did manage to grab an hour or two of sleep just before the milky rays of dawn rose above the trees. She was woken by a loud voice. “Morning, Sammy-boy. Rise and shine!” 

Alex groaned and rolled over to see the devil standing at the foot of the bed. “If you don’t shut up I swear to our Father I will rip your wings off,” she growled. 

Lucifer just chuckled, siding towards her. “ _Pas enay_ ,” he grinned playfully, “I’d like to see you try.” He snapped his fingers, and Sam’s bed caught fire, the flames crackling in the chill morning air. The hunter jumped up in surprise, and the fire died. “I got bored,” he explained, turning to the hunter. “Come on, Sam. Talk to me. The damage is already done; what harm is a little chat?” 

Sam ran a hand down his face, and Alex reluctantly sat up. “Maybe you could try going for a run?” she suggested. “I bet you're faster than him. And it might wake you up.” 

The hunter yawned, covering his mouth with his hand in a vain attempt to stifle it. “Yeah,” he relented. “Maybe later. I think I might just go get some coffee first. Maybe bring back breakfast.” He walked towards the door, hands coming up to run through his uncombed hair. “Want anything?” 

“I’m good.” Alex watched him pull on his shoes, ignoring the devil as he began up his early morning monologue. “Oh, and Sam? I’m _going_ to fix you, okay? I don’t care if I have to go to hell and back. I’m going to make this right.”


	38. Born-Again Identity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I'll be moving to an every-other-day posting schedule from here on out. Sorry I didn't post yesterday, but I now have two part-time jobs, so that's fun. Yay ...
> 
> Also a quick Enochian review because there's quite a bit in here: 
> 
> _Le pas enay_ — my little angel  
>  _Li mohaoth_ — my love(r)  
>  _Iaida turs_ — most beautiful

**July 2nd, 2012**

**Northern Indiana**

**A** lex tipped back another beer, frowning as Sam finished his fifth one that night. Dean was on the bed beside her, head lolling back against the pillows, eyes closed. Alex shifted her hand, where Dean’s fingers were tightly threaded through hers, making a soft noise of amusement when his hand tightened; Dean was always funniest when he got this drunk.

_“You have such small hands.” Dean held up his left hand, motioning for Alex to do the same, and with a roll of her eyes, she did, fitting her palm over his and lining up her thin fingers with his calloused ones. She only got to study the difference for a second before his fingers slipped between hers, closing down over the back of her hand._

_The Winchester grinned, and Alex rolled her eyes, letting a small smirk grace her lips. “Very clever, Dean,” she praised, not bothering to try tug her hand free. “That’s a good one.”_

_“I know,” the hunter slurred, settling further down into the pillows. “Imma take a nap.”_

_“Dude, you are hammered,” the angel laughed as Dean closed his eyes. “Yeah, you take a nap, Dean. That’s a really good idea...”_

Alex looked over at Sam, who was still staring at the tv, unblinking. Lucifer sat by his feet, legs crossed. He was staring at Sam, having barely spoken since Sam got back from wherever he had been. 

“You doing okay?” Alex finally asked, looking over at her friend as he got up and walked over to the cooler. “Maybe you should lay off of them. Five’s enough.” After a glanced at the devil she added, “If anything more is just going to make it worse.” 

Lucifer chuckled from where she sat. “Hear that, Sam?” he said in a mock whisper, a hand going up to cover his mouth. “She thinks you’ve only had five. I guess you weren’t going to mention that you’ve already been to two bars tonight.”

“I’m going for a walk.” Sam reached for his jacket, fingers missing the first time as he tried to grab the collar, and Alex sat up in concern when he finally got a hold of it, throwing it under his arm. “Stay here.” 

“Sam? No.”

Lucifer stood up, shrugging over at Alex with a grin on his face. “I guess we’re going for a walk.” When Alex got to her feet he tsked. “Ah ah. You heard the man. Stay there.” His grace bubbled up inside of her, and Alex winced at the twinge of chill that ran up her spine. She could feel Lucifer’s grace reaching out from Sam, and her vision swam, eyes coming in and out of focus. The angel’s eyelids grew heavy, and Alex stumbled back, tripping over her own feet before she landed back on the bed as darkness washed over her.

 

 **S** he awoke when Dean’s phone started to ring. Alex rubbed her head with a groan, ripping herself free from Dean’s iron-like grasp to find his cell on the ground beside her. She didn’t recognize the number, but answered it anyways. “Uh . . . hello?” 

“Is this Dean Smith? My name’s Dr. Kadinsky; I’m calling about Sam.”

Alex sat straight up, eyes wide. “Sam?” she repeated. “Is he okay?” 

“Is Dean there?” 

“He’s still sleeping. This is Sam’s girlfriend —” Alex cut off with a wince at how bad that probably sounded, and cast a glance down at Sam’s brother, still passed on in the bed beside her. “Uh, Alex. My name’s Alex. What’s wrong with Sam?” She reached over and shook Dean’s shoulder, and he groaned out his protest. She pressed the phone into her shoulder. “Get up, you ass,” she hissed. “Something’s wrong with Sam.” She put the phone back up against her ear. “Where is he?" 

“Sam is here at Northern Indiana State Hospital, but I don’t —”

“We’ll be right there.” Alex snapped the phone shut and jumped out of bed. “Dean. _Dean_.” Alex put her hand on the hunter’s forehead in a death grip and shoved her burning grace inside. Dean’s eyes snapped open, and Alex repeated herself. “Dean, come on. Sam’s hurt. We have to get down to the hospital _now._ ” 

The Winchester’s face went blank with alarm before it darkened. “Dammit,” he cursed, rolling out of bed, and Alex grabbed her duffle bag. “Five minutes,” she said as she hurried towards the bathroom. “We’re leaving in five.”

 

 **A** lex followed Dean into the doctor's office at Northern Indiana State Hospital. "Okay, sir? You can't just barge in here without an appointment!" A nurse hurried after them, and Alex flared her black and gold wings angrily.

“They said, 'talk to Kadinsky’!” Dean turned to the doctor, who was sitting at his wooden desk, gaze going between Alex and Dean. "You Kadinsky?" 

“You need to be scheduled!” the nurse continued. 

Dean spun to face the nurse. “Then schedule me!” he yelled, and the room fell silent. Dean turned back to the man sitting behind the desk. “He was in a car crash. Why the hell can't I see him?” 

"You're Sam Smith's brother?" Dr. Kadinsky looked up. He took off his glasses and looked over at Alex. “And you must be his girlfriend. We talked on the phone.” 

Alex nodded. “Yeah, I remember.” 

"Yeah. What's going on?" Dean insisted. 

"It's fine.” Dr. Kadinsky dismissed the nurse standing behind them. "Thank you. Really." Alex watched the nurse leave before turning back to the doctor, arms crossed. "Sam was admitted," Kadinsky informed them. "He was treated for a broken rib and lacerations." 

"Okay. That's not too bad. And?" 

"And he's on our locked psychiatric ward," the doctor finished, standing up.

Alex saw Dean stiffen in surprise. "I mean, he's had some trouble . . .”

"So you're aware Sam is experiencing a full-blown psychotic episode?"

"Psychotic?" Dean glanced at Alex. “Come on. The guy's . . . it's not like the guy's freakin’ Norman Bates." Alex nodded in agreement. 

"No. I'm sure he isn’t,” the doctor conceded. “We need to determine whether his state was brought on by his insomnia or whether the insomnia is a symptom of his condition. Do you understand? So we can figure out how to treat him. Has there been any big changes in his life?” He looked over at Alex, an eyebrow raised to emphasis his question. “Anything that may have caused this psychotic break?” 

“I . . . I don’t know.” Alex looked up at Dean and shrugged. “I guess . . . work has been kind of stressful, but that’s not new.”

Dean mimicked her shrug. “Well, all I can say is this sleep thing is kind of new.”

"Right. Well, we've pumped him about as full of sedatives as we safely can. So far he won't go under. I've never seen anything like it,” the doctor added disbelievingly.

Alex nodded understandingly. After a moment, she spoke."Can we see him?" she asked quietly. 

The doctor nodded, and put down his pen. He stood up and led them out of his office and up a flight of stairs. They paused by a door marked Ward D2. Alex watched him push a button, and the door opened. They stepped inside and continued to walk down the hall. The doctor stopped at a door on the left. Dean looked inside. “I’m just sayin’.” Alex’s feathers ruffled at the familiar voice. “Back when you had no soul, you never had to sleep.”

The doctor turned the doorknob, and Dean and Alex stepped through. Inside, Sam was laying on a single bed, dressed in all white. Alex narrowed her eyes in sympathy. He looked terrible; his hair was uncombed, and the circles under his eyes darker than ever. He barely looked up when they entered, attention fully focused on the far wall. She felt Dean tense at the sight of his brother. 

“Ah, Mr. Helpless. Pull up a six-pack, buddy.” 

Alex glanced to her right to see Lucifer propped up on a metal table, back against the wall and feet on the chair. He had a loop of string woven between his fingers, and he grinned over at the visitors before his gaze dropped back down to it. 

Dean didn’t hear him, and walked further into the room, and Alex hurried after him, stopping a few feet away from Sam’s bed as Dr. Kadinsky closed the door to give them some privacy. "How are you feeling?" Dean asked, completely unaware of the devil in the corner.

"Maybe you should cancel my UFC fight," Sam joked tiredly, gaze sliding over to Alex. 

"Yeah. You keep that sense of humor. It'll get you through this.” Lucifer chuckled at his own joke, and Alex flared her wings angrily. 

Dean walked around to sit on the edge of Sam's bed. "Sam, I'm going to find you help," he promised quietly. Sam sighed, and lowered his gaze. 

“Now _that_ sounded a little cynical.” When no one acknowledged him, the devil frowned. He stood up, bored with Sam, and walked over to Alex, who pointedly ignored him.

“— I don't think it's out there," Sam was saying. 

Lucifer tried to touch Alex, but his hand slid through her shoulder, not even brushing against her grace. His brow furrowed in disappointment; however his voice remained light. "Alex," he said playfully. "Glad you're here.” Alex ignored him, and Lucifer frowned. “Come on, Alex, talk to me. I’m _booored_. ” He dragged the word out as he walked around to stand in front of her. 

Alex huffed, trying to see around him.

"You know, I miss our little times together, me, you, rattling about in your noggin,” Lucifer continued, leaning slightly so he was blocking her sight. "I really do. Just ask Sam — he’s been hearing all about it, you know.” The devil looked thoughtful for only a second. “You do start to run out of things to talk about after five days.” 

Alex looked over his other shoulder to see Dean stand up. "Yeah, Sam. I remember," he was saying. 

Lucifer moved again, his head directly in front of Alex's. She raised an eyebrow and mouthed the word _out_. She turned her attention to Dean when he punched his hand. "Get pissed!" he yelled. 

"I'm too tired," Sam sighed, his eyes half closed. "This is what happens when you throw a soul into Lucifer's dog bowl. And you think there's just going to be some cure out there?" 

Dean didn't respond, and the devil turned to look at the two brothers. “Oh,” he finally said, “you guys are having a moment.”

“Oh, shut up," Alex finally snapped, wings flaring out in agitation. She stalked around Lucifer to stand by Sam’s bed.

Dean got up, shooting her a look. “I’ll be outside,” he said, voice resigned, and Alex nodded. 

“Yeah,” she agreed, “sounds good. I’ll be right there. Just give me a minute.” She waited until Dean had closed the door behind him before she sighed, looking down at her feet. “I’m sorry, Sam.”

“It’s not your fault.” 

“I wish I could get back inside your head,” Lucifer complained, taking up his spot on the desk. “I mean, our little dreams weren’t enough, but at least there you talked to me.” Neither Sam nor Alex even looked at him, and he devil crossed his arms. “In case you care, I do protest to being treated like this.”

“Yeah, I don’t think any of us care,” Alex shot back over her shoulder, sitting down on the bed beside Sam. 

“You know, talking to him’s the reason I’m here.” Even the hunter’s voice sounded tired, and Alex reached out, placing her hand over his and letting her grace push gingerly inside. Lucifer's pushed back in warning, and the angel pulled away.

“He can’t get in unless I let him,” she promised, gently squeezing his hand. She glared back at the devil and added, “And thank God for that, huh?” 

Lucifer got off of the table and approached, and Alex stood to even the height as the archangel’s face darkened. “I’m getting tired of your attitude,” he warned, reaching out. 

Alex instinctively batted his hand away, eyes going wide in surprise as contact was made. “Holy fuck,” she breathed out. 

The archangel’s face twisted in confusion, and he reached out, hand passing straight through hers. “How did you do that?” he demanded. 

“I . . . I don’t know how.” Alex reached out and poked the archangel in the forehead and then moved to grab him by the shoulders. Each time the archangel felt real beneath her fingertips, but only when she moved to touch him.

“A little lower,” he quipped when she poked him in the stomach. Alex kicked him in the shins. “Ow!” The devil jumped away, a hurt look on his face.

Alex smirked, then cast a look towards the door before turning around and sinking onto the bed beside Sam with a blush. “Oops. Doctor’s watching. That probably looked weird.” She cast a quick glance to see Dr. Kadinsky peering through the window before dipping her head in embarrassment and turning back to the Winchester. 

“You know what’s more weird?” Lucifer moved back to his table. “You. It’s been, what? Four months without your mate? Must be getting pretty desperate.” 

“Can we not? I’m _fine_ , Luce. Anyways.” She turned back to Sam. “I should be going. You need to sleep.” She stood up to go, but Sam grabbed her hand.

“Yeah,” Lucifer agreed, “too bad the devil won’t leave you alone. Stupid Satan.”

Sam ignored him. “Maybe . . . maybe you could stay? You know, flick him when he gets too annoying?” Alex let out a small smile at him joke, and Sam’s head fell back against the white pillows, and he hesitated before choosing his next words. “Take care of Dean, okay?”

“ _No_ , Sam. I promised you I was going to find you help. You’re _not_ going to die, okay?”

To her dismay, the Winchester shook his head. “I don’t see any other way out of it,” he admitted. “I haven’t slept for six days.” 

Alex’s heart twisted in sympathy, and she closed her eyes before taking a deep breath and turning to face the devil. “Okay. You say you’re real, right?” She already knew the answer, and when Lucifer hummed in agreement she added, “Alright. I’ll make you a deal.”

Lucifer raised his eyebrows. “Make a deal with the devil?” He clicked his tongue, but Alex didn’t miss the guarded interest that flashed through his eyes. “You sure about that?”

“Shut up. Do you want to hear it or not?”

“No.” Sam grabbed Alex’s hand and tugged her towards him. “Don’t do this, Pip. Not for me.”

“Shut up, Sam.” She shook the hunter off. “It’ll be okay. He won’t hurt me.” She looked over at Lucifer and asked pointedly, “You won’t hurt me, will you?” 

The devil looked actually offended. “Of course not.” He leaned forward on the table, resting his chin on his hand. “I’m listening.” 

The young angel took a deep breath. “You’re right. It’s been four months since Cas . . . you knkw, and I . . . I don't want another mate.”

“But you want me?” 

Alex frowned. “I’m being serious, Luce.” She crossed her arms. “I can let you back into my head. Cas showed me how.” 

Lucifer got off of the table, his quiet and agile movements reminiscent of a predator. A grin crept across his face as he stalked forward. “Hmm,” he hummed. “And what’s the catch?” 

Alex raised her head as the archangel stopped just within her personal space. “The catch?” she repeated. “The catch is that you let Sam here sleep.” 

The devil looked thoughtful, and Alex heard the bed behind her squeak as Sam shifted. “Alex,” he warned. “Don’t do this.”

Both Alex and Lucifer spoke simultaneously. “Shut up, Sam.” 

The devil studied Alex for a few, long seconds, teeth teasing at his thumbnail as he thought. Alex waited patiently, holding his gaze, knowing he wasn’t seriously considering rejecting it; it was only another game he was playing. “How long?” he finally asked. 

“For what?” 

“For sleep. How long does Sam sleep?” 

“Four hours.” 

The devil snorted. “Thirty minutes,” he countered. 

“Three hours.” 

“I’m not going any higher than an hour.”

“And I’m not going any lower than two.” Alex watched as the devil blinked, and she steadily held his gaze. “Who do you want more?” she pressed. “Me or Sam?” 

“Hour and a half. Final deal.”

“Deal.” 

Lucifer hummed as a question came to mind. “How do I know you’ll let me in?” 

“How do I know you’ll let Sam sleep?” the young angel countered, feathers ruffling in slight indignation at his accusation. 

Lucifer held up three fingers. “Scouts honor,” he promised. When Alex didn’t look convinced he added, slightly hurt, “Alex. Have I ever lied to you?”

Alex didn’t answer. “I’ll let you in,” she told him coldly. “And I’ll keep tabs on Sam. If he doesn’t start sleeping, the deal’s off, you understand?” 

The devil chuckled, stepping even closer. “And how exactly would you throw me back out again?” he asked, but Alex couldn’t sense any challenge in his tone. “You can’t do it on your own.”

“I have my resources,” Alex retorted. “And some of them are in my debt, which makes them pretty motivated to pay me back. So. Deal or no deal?” 

“Deal.” The devil grinned as he added, “See you tonight.” Then he was gone, and Alex turned back to Sam. 

“You shouldn’t have done that.” 

“I’m just buying you more time, Sam.” Alex smiled down at the hunter in reassurance. “He won’t hurt me, and you need to sleep. You’re going to be fine, okay? Trust me; I would know. Just, don’t talk to him, do what you do best, and things will get better.” She prayed her words rang true as she turned to leave. 

“I think she’s lying,” Lucifer decided, appearing on the bed beside Sam. “Don’t you?” 

Alex closed the door behind her before she could hear Sam’s response. 

 

 **S** he and Dean walked back out to the car in silence. Alex slid into the front seat, closing the door as Dean started the car. “Sam’s gonna be alright, right?” he asked, pulling the car towards the exit of the parking lot.

“Yeah.” 

Dean applied the brakes, and the car rolled to a stop. Alex looked over at the hunter to see him turn in his seat. “You can’t lie to me, Alex,” he insisted. “Car rule.” 

“Car rule?” the angel repeated, amusement in her voice, but when Dean didn’t budge, she sighed. “Fine. You want to know the truth? I don’t know. I don’t know, okay? Sam’s suppose to make it through, but I don’t know how, I don’t know when. But . . . I don’t know. Maybe I’ve inadvertently changed something, you know? Some sort of shitty butterfly effect.” She looked down at her hands, wings curling around her. 

Dean let out a breath. “It’s not your fault, Alex. It’s not your job to keep us safe. That’s mine.” 

“That’s not true,” Alex retorted. “I’m an angel, Dean. You guys . . . you’ve kind of become my charges, which means you’re my responsibility.” She looked up into Dean’s eyes. “You’re tired,” she murmured.

“Yeah, well, it’s been a stressful couple of months, you know?” 

“You know that’s not what I mean.” Alex shifted in her seat as the car started moving again. “You’re tired of all of of it. Everything. Tired of life.” She saw Dean’s mouth open to protest, and she cut him off. “Ah. No lying, car rule. I can see it in your eyes, Dean. I see it in the eyes of everyone I know. You’re tired. Tired of hunting, tired of it all.” She looked over at her friend. “You miss the life you had with Ben and Lisa, don’t you?” Dean glared over at her, and she sighed. “I miss them too.”

“Listen, Pip.” Dean cast a resigned glance over at the young angel as he turned the car onto the highway. “I’m sorry I tossed you out,” he finally said. “And I mean it this time. I shouldn’t have thrown you to the demons. I . . . I don’t know what I was thinking.” 

“I know exactly what you were thinking. You were protecting your family, Dean. And you were right. Crowley wouldn’t stop until he got me, and they were bound to get caught in the crossfire. I was just too selfish to see it.”

Dean paused, choosing his next words carefully. “You are my family, Alex.” The angel looked over at Dean in surprise, but he didn’t meet her gaze, too busy staring out at the road. She could see emotion battling in his features, and tried to respond, but nothing she could think of sounded . Dean started to continue, but decided against it, and reached over to turn up the music when the chords to Bob Seger’s _Beautiful Loser_ rang throughout the stereo. Not having any better ideas, Alex turned her head out the window, watching the road pass by.

_He’s your oldest and your best friend_  
_If you need him he’ll be there again_  
_He’s always willing to be second best_  
_A perfect lodger, a perfect guest_

_Beautiful loser_  
_Read it on the wall_  
_And realize you just can’t have it all_

_You just can’t have it all_

 

 **A** lex was back in her house in heaven. The lights were on, casting a soft glow on the interior. Rain drummed on the roof, and the sky outside was dark, giving the house a warm and comforting atmosphere. Alex sighed, closing her eyes at the warm memories that trickled through her mind. The doorbell rang, and she tipped her head as she looked up. The young angel slowly crossed the room to unlock the front door and pull it open, peering outside. Then she shook her head. “Wow.” 

“Can I come in?” Lucifer stood on the front step, soaking wet, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his black dress pants. 

Alex rolled her eyes in disbelief. “Are you wearing a tie? You’re ridiculous.”

“Thank you, I think. You’re not the only one who looks good in a tie.” The devil reached up, idly loosening the dark tie that hung around his neck while shifting his weight. “However, I still need your permission to come in.” He looked up at the sky above his head as the rain plastered his hair to his scalp. 

“Yeah, come on in.” Alex stepped back and held open the door, and the devil stepped over the threshold, resplendent crimson wings unfolding and shaking out. Alex flinched as water droplets flew in every direction, eyes screwing closed as several hit her face. She opened her eyes to see them stretch up and out, almost reaching the far wall, and Alex felt her own wings fall lower at the sight. “Is Sam sleeping?” she finally asked. 

Lucifer shrugged. “I’ve left him alone. It’s his choice to sleep.” He looked around, and Alex felt his grace pushing out and exploring. “It’s good to be home,” he admitted. With a snap of his fingers, he was dry. “Now.” He walked over to the couch and sat down, leaning forward and looking up at Alex. “Tell me. Why did you invite me back? Was it only because of Sam?” 

His wings folded forward, and Alex reached out with hers, pressing hers along the insides of his. Her breath caught as the vanes of his feathers caught on hers, causing their feathers to mesh together. “It was a little because of Sam,” she defended with a small smile as his grace rested against hers, cool and familiar. “But, uh . . . you were right. I don’t want another mate, and it feels so much easier when you’re here. It’s not that anyone’s really propositioned,” she added. “I . . . I just get so lonely sometimes.” 

“Well, that’s why I’m here.” Lucifer shifted to one side, patting the couch beside him. “Now come here. I haven’t seen you in almost a year.” 

Alex smiled, but did so. “You saw me this morning,” she teased, sitting down beside the archangel. 

“Ah, but I wasn’t able to do this.” Lucifer leaned forward, taking Alex’s face in one hand as he softly pressed his lips against hers.

Alex vaguely felt the lights dim around her, and she broke away. “No, but you tried,” she teased. Lucifer leaned in again, and she put a hand on his chest, gently pushing him away with a small laugh. The archangel growled and stretched forward, reclaiming her lips, and this time Alex let him. She could feel her grace begging to take over, like it always did when she had been away from angels for some time. It was an odd feeling, but it wasn't bad. Just a building need for love and attention. It built up inside her chest, pressing to get out. The archangel's lips against hers brought her back to reality. Well, not reality. It was a dream. Dream-reality. Sort of. 

“You’re thinking too much.” Lucifer’s soft voice reached her ears. “Focus on me.” Alex wrenched herself from her thoughts, and pulled her mind back to the archangel in front of her. “Very good,” he praised. 

“I’m not a dog, Luce —” Alex was cut off by the archangel, no longer wanting to hear her speak. One hand slid around to her neck, and Alex placed her hands on his chest, fingers playing with the soft fabric of his tie. She gently pushed him away after several seconds, and the archangel frowned, pulling back when Alex started laughing. “What’s so funny?” 

“It’s nothing, just . . . you’re so _old_ ,” Alex finally teased. “It’s just, I don’t even know. Kind of weird.”

Mock offense crossed the archangel’s face. “ _That’s_ what you’re thinking about? My age?” He looked down at himself. “My vessel’s age, I assume.”

Alex shrugged. “Both. You’re just really old all around.”

“Mm. My vessel isn't me. I can be anyone you want, _Iaida turs_. Who would you prefer?” The devil’s face and voice began to morph. “Dean?” Green eyes faded into hazel. “Sam perhaps?” Blue eyes studied Alex intently, and Castiel’s deep voice asked, “Or maybe you’d like me.”

Alex blinked back tears, shaking her head, and the archangel in front of her shifted back into his original form, wings opening slightly in silent apology. “No,” Alex decided, “this one’s fine. I mean, they’re all old.”

Lucifer hummed in acknowledgement of her statement. “You’re still very human, aren’t you?” Grace brushed against hers. “Humans focus on the external. Beauty, wealth, age. Our Father taught us to look at the inside. Their soul, their hearts, their grace. On the eternal, not the temporal, unlike humans.”

Alex nodded. “That makes sense,” she agreed. “Then again,you cant make a leopard change their stripes.”

“I don’t think that’s the saying.” Large, crimson wings folded around her as the devil shifted, pulling his legs up underneath him so he could face her more fully, towering over the younger angel, whose own wings fell out in response. Fingers dragged reverently down her jawline, and Alex closed her eyes, leaning into the devil’s chill touch. “I’ve missed you,” he murmured. “Missed your touch, missed your grace. It wasn’t enough, just being in Sam’s head. To see you but not to feel you. It was torture.”

Alex closed her eyes as his hands wandered across her skin, one going to the back of her neck and the other trailed down her side. “Missed you too,” she admitted, suppressing a warm shiver as she felt him lean close, cold breath soft on her face. She reached up, fingers dancing along the base of the archangel’s wings, and she felt the muscles twitch under her touch. She moved her fingers into the softer feathers as Lucifer pressed light kisses on her face and neck, and she slid her fingers up through his short hair. 

 

 **S** uddenly the whole house lurched. Alex snapped open her eyes to see the dark road ahead of her, and a soft noise of surprise and confusion was forced from her lungs. A flash of tan lunged across her vision, disappearing off of the road.

“Sorry,” Dean apologized, slightly wide-eyed as well. “Damn deer jumped in front of the car.” He slowly started accelerating the car again. “You dreaming?” 

“Maybe.” Alex was thankful for the dark covering her face as the memories brought on a blush. “Why?” 

“Just curious,” the Winchester shrugged. “We just left Rapid City half an hour back. We’ll be at the cabin in half a day.”

“Oh, okay. You, uh, want me to drive? Maybe you can catch some sleep yourself?” Alex straightened up in her seat, forcing her feathers to lie flat against her wings. “Cause I can drive, Dean.”

The Winchester shook his head. “Nah, I’ve still got a few hours left in me. We’ll see. For now, you finish your nap.” 

“Okay, Dean.” Alex leaned back in her seat, turning away from the Winchester as she closed her eyes. It only took a minute before she slipped back into a deep, but utterly dreamless, sleep. 

 

**Whitefish, Montana**

**T** welve hours later the Dodge Charger pulled onto the winding, dirt road that led to Rufus’ cabin. “Hold up,” Alex suddenly said. She reached for the door handle as the car slowed. “I’m gonna run the rest of the way.” 

“Run?” Dean snorted in amusement. “Since when do you run? It’s almost half a mile.” 

“Hey. I’ve been in this car for twenty four hours. I’m done. Besides,” she added with a laugh, “I have to keep exercising if I don’t want to get flabby like you.” She poked Dean in his stomach before throwing the car door open and climbing out. 

She broke into a jog, and Dean gave her a head start before slowly starting to drive again, letting Alex race him for a few seconds before speeding off, leaving the young angel in the dust. Alex stretched her legs further and further with each stride, wings flapping behind her as she tried to gain lift. She pulled them back in as wind dragged through her feathers, slowing her down, and she resigned herself to jogging. 

When she finally reached the cabin Dean was leaning against the hood of the Charger. “Having fun?”

“I think that’s enough exercise for the next week,” the young angel quipped back, circling around to the trunk to pull out her things. “Anyways. What’s the plan?” 

“The plan? The plan’s we see if there’s any hunter who can help. Or anyone, for that matter.” Dean grabbed his duffle bag and slung it over his shoulder before slamming the trunk shut. “Got any strings you can pull?” 

“There’s a few I can try, yeah. No promises, though.” Alex followed the hunter into the dusty cabin and dropped her things by the door. She stopped and looked around, wings curling around her as she thought of the last time she had been here. 

“You okay?” Dean cast her a glance from where he was in the other room, sticking his head through the doorway in confusion. 

“Yeah, I . . . I’m fine. It’s just — I haven't been here since Bobby died.” Alex walked over to the worn couch and sat down. “You start calling hunters. I’ll start shaking a few of my own personal trees.” 

 

 **“H** e almost hit a deer?” Lucifer looked unconvinced at Alex’s explanation. “That’s what woke you?” 

“Yeah. It was a big ass buck, too.” Alex shrugged, sinking deeper into the couch. “Fourteen points, probably.” Her gaze flickered across the screen to see some movie Lucifer had conjured up, probably from the recesses of her mind, yet she wasn’t exactly sure what movie it was. “How’s Sam doing, by the way? You’re letting him sleep, right?” 

The archangel looked hurt. “Of course. I wouldn’t lie to you, _turs_. Sam slept for an hour last night before I woke him up.” 

“An hour?” Alex turned in her seat. “Luce! You promised me an hour and a half.” 

“You’re the one left early,” the archangel rebutted. “I got bored. Now be quiet and watch the movie.” His wings folded around hers, and after a few seconds Alex shifted, curling up on the couch and burying her head into Lucifer’s side. An arm draped itself across her back, finger running up and down her spine. The touch was chilly, but Alex melted into it, a purr rumbling through her chest and into her wings at the gentle action. The finger began drawing lazy patterns on her back, but after a few minutes they became more complicated, dipping and swirling with precise intent, even though the archangel’s gaze was still focused on the tv. Alex shifted, and he let out a quiet breath. “Shh,” he quieted her. “I’m almost done.”

“What are you doing?” 

“Writing.” 

“In Enochian?” When Lucifer hummed his agreement, Alex asked, “What are you writing.” 

“My name. Because you’re mine.” 

A blush spread across Alex’s face, and she wiggled her way further into the archangel at her side to hide her embarrassment. The finger continued its ministrations against her back, and Alex focused on the flickering tv. 

 

 **T** hree days passed, and Dean and Alex had gone through every single contact Bobby ever had. "Yeah, thanks." Dean hung up the phone once again. He sighed, and rubbed his tired eyes. "You thirsty?" 

"Sure." Alex looked over the back of the couch, resting her head on the worn back only momentarily before turning back to the journal in her lap. Dean stood up and walked over to the fridge. He reached in and took out two cans of beer. Alex heard the sound of a book hit the ground, and she looked up to see Dean freeze. 

"Did you do that?" he asked. 

Alex cocked an eyebrow. "Does it _look_ like I did that?" she asked back, gaze falling to the small leather-bound journal now on the ground. "You're closer to it than I am." 

"With your angel mojo, I mean." 

Alex shook her head. “Definitely not.” She got up off of the couch and approached, bending down to pick up the journal. A small business card fell out, and, with a frown of confusion, she handed it to Dean. He turned it over to find a phone number scrolled on the back. Handing the beer to Alex, he picked up the phone again. 

"Yeah, hi. Um . . . My name's Dean. I'm a friend of Bobby Singer's. I'm, uh, looking for some info. If you could call me back at 785-555-0128. Thanks." He hung up. Alex walked over the fridge and exchanged her beer for a coke. “You find anything?” 

Alex looked over at the Winchester. “Not yet,” she admitted. “Heaven’s still in a bit of chaos; I did talk to Zeke though; he’s got no idea how to fix Sam. Not with Lucifer’s grace in there. There’s no way to uproot it, and even then there’d be no place to put it.” She frowned and then slowly added, “There’s one other person I could try.”

Dean nodded. “Do that,” he agreed, sitting down on the couch. “Otherwise we have nothing.” 

“Okay.” Alex set her can down on the counter and slipped on her shoes, hurrying out the front door and into the woods. She pulled her phone out of her pocket as she paused beside a large spruce and scrolled through her contacts. 

The phone rang only once before it was answered. “What do you want?” 

“Crowley. Fancy a chat?” Alex didn’t wait for a response before she added, “Actually, that’s not a question. We need to talk.”

“And why is that?” Crowley’s voice held an echo, and Alex looked up to see the demon in front of her. The demon hung up, and Alex did the same, shoving her phone into her pocket. “This better be good, kitten.” 

“I need your help.”

“Yes, you seem to be needing that a lot recently.” Crowley sauntered forward, and Alex flared her wings in warning, causing him to stop. “What makes you think I’ll help?” 

“Because I wouldn’t come to you if I had any other option.” The young angel forced her wings to lie flat as she added, “At least hear me out.” 

“Alright. But if you think this is going to be any different than last time . . .”

Alex’s eyes narrowed in hurt. “You’re the one who said we were besties,” she retorted. “It’s Sam. Lucifer’s been in his head ever since Cas took down the wall —”

“Let me stop you right there.” The demon held up a hand. “You want me to go up against that bloody archangel _again_. As if I haven’t stuck my neck out far enough.” 

“Scared?” 

“And rightly so!” The demon’s accent grew thicker as his voice rose. “Have you even met the man? Actually, no, don’t answer that.” Crowley’s face darkened. “I’m not sure why you think I even care about you or your friends. You’re useful; I keep you close. Understand? It’s not my problem if the three of you can’t clean up after yourselves. So next time, unless this somehow involves me, don’t bother ringing.” The demon was gone, and Alex heart sank. Her wings drooped, feathers brushing against the dirt, and with a small shake of her head Alex returned to the cabin. 

 

 **N** ight came quickly. Dean hadn't moved, still on his laptop, searching. Alex rolled her head back, bored as hell. She was bored of black and white, four channel tv. Suddenly the phone rang. Dean and Alex exchanged glances, and Dean slowly answered it. "This is Dean." He listened. Alex waited patiently. Finally Dean hung up. "Grab you stuff." 

Alex jumped up. "Somebody got something?" she asked, hardly daring to be hopeful. 

"Yeah." Dean closed the laptop, threw it in his bag, and turned off the lights. "Littleton, Colorado. There’s this healer; hunter checked him out, he’s legit. Come on; let’s go.”

 

 **T** hey drove all night. At some point Alex must have fallen asleep, because she jerked into consciousness when Dean shook her awake. He wordlessly handed her a bagel and coffee, and Alex rolled her eyes, but took them gratefully. "Good morning to you, too," she grumbled sarcastically. 

"We're almost there." Dean informed her, taking a sip of his own coffee before sticking it into one of the two cupholders. "We should be in Littleton in three or so hours." 

Alex looked around. They were parked in the backlot of a gas station. “Yeah,” she agreed. “Sounds like a good plan.” Alex was almost drowned out by the music as Dean turned on the car. She rolled her eyes, and they started down the road again.

 

**Littleton, Colorado**

**D** ean pulled up alongside a blue suburban house with white trim windows. “Here we are." Dean got out, and Alex followed, trailing behind him as they walked up the path to the front door. Flower beds decorated the exterior, and Alex ran her eyes over the white flowers as Dean rung the doorbell. After a few seconds, the door opened. "Hi. Uh, is this, uh, Daphne Allen's house? I'm looking for Emmanuel.”

“Well you found him. Daphne's resting, if you don't mind.” 

Alex looked up at the voice, and her wings flared out in alarm. For the briefest second, the man’s face twisted in torment, flesh ragged and charred, and the angel reached out to touch Dean’s elbow. “Dean. Get back,” she hissed, wings flaring out. 

The man’s eyes flashed black. “I wasn’t expecting an angel.” His displeased voice rumbled through his chest, and Alex backpedaled as the demon took a menacing step forward.

“You know, I’d think twice,” Dean warned. “Or don’t you know that your boss issued a hands-off memo?” He shifted his weight, and Alex’s muscles coiled, ready to spring to his defense. 

The demon laughed darkly. “Please,” he scoffed. “What have you done for him lately? Roman’s head on a plate? No? Whatever Emmanuel is, Crowley’s gonna want him a lot more than he wants you these days.”

The demon stepped forward, and Alex lunged forward, knocking the demon backwards with a solid jab to the upper chest, followed by a hand over his forehead. Her grace poured into him, and the demon screamed as his twisted soul burned away. The empty vessel slumped to the ground, and Alex rolled her shoulders back, letting her wings lie flat. 

“What the hell?” Dean’s breathless words had the angel turning around in confusion to see him staring down the steps. Alex stepped forward to follow his gaze, and she froze in complete shock. A man stood on the steps below them, dressed in a blue, zippered sweater over a grey button down, but Alex knew that face. She knew those eyes. Her heart leapt to her throat, and her wings fell out. _Castiel._

The angel’s gaze slid between the two hunters to focus on the demon’s vessel. “What was that?” he asked, sounding scared as hell. 

Why was he scared? The breath was knocked out of her lungs as another realization hit her. Where were his wings? She couldn't see them. Why couldn’t she see them?

“Is Daphne okay?” Castiel continued. He hurried up the stairs and pushed his way past Dean and Alex to gain access to the house. He walked right past Alex, barely even acknowledging her, and the ground spun beneath her feet at his coldness. What was wrong with her angel?” 

Alex and Dean followed quietly. "What . . ." Dean hissed, looking down at her. 

"I don't know," Alex whispered back. She was scared, and she knew Dean could see it. “W-What the actual hell?" They entered the living room where Castiel was untying a woman from a chair, concern deeply etched in his features. 

"That creature hurt you." Castiel undid the gag and started untying the ropes that wound their way around the woman’s body, his voice tender. 

"I'm okay," Daphne promised. She stood up, gripping Castiel's arms as fear for the man in front of her overtook her. "But Emmanuel. They were looking for you." 

"It's okay." 

Alex stiffened as Daphne reached up and touched Castiel's cheek, trailing her hand down his chest. Castiel took the red-headed woman’s hand, entwining their fingers as he led her over to Dean. Alex pushed herself back into the wall, sandwiching her wings between her body and the wall so they’d stop trembling. Her gaze fell on where their hands were joined, and her fingers curled into fists as she fell very, very still.

"I'm Emmanuel." Castiel glanced over at Alex before turning back to Dean. 

He held out his hand, and Dean took it, completely confused. “Dean,” he said after a second’s hesitation. “I'm . . . Dean. And, uh, that’s Alex.” 

Alex glared at Daphne. She couldn't help but feel jealous. 

"Thank you for protecting my wife," Castiel continued. 

Alex visibly stiffened. _I love you. More than anything._ Castiel's words to her from so many months ago flashed through her head as if he had spoken them right now. Rage pulsed through her, and she flared her wings high above her head, feathers ruffling out as her grace crackled through the air. It pushed against Castiel, and Alex felt his grace, sitting deep within him, curled up tightly and locked away. She swore she felt it, but it disappeared from her touch before she could be sure.

She pulled back when Castiel gasped. No, Alex corrected herself. _Emmanuel_ gasped. He wasn't Castiel. He couldn’t be. Not anymore. Emmanuel stepped backwards, eyes trained on Alex. He opened his mouth, but no words came out.

"Emmanuel?" Daphne tightened her grip on her husband's hand. “What’s wrong?” 

"Your wife. Right." Dean glanced at Alex. Her eyes were narrowed at the two people, and the hunter cleared his throat, trying to distract her. 

"She's . . . she's . . ." Emmanuel trailed off. "You have wings," he finally said. “How — I didn’t —” 

"What? These ratty old things?" Alex growled. Her grace pulsed through the air, and she was so angry she could barely form words. She focused on that anger, and lightning flashed, casting the shadow of her wings on the wall behind her. Daphne let out a cry and stepped behind Emmanuel, who stood defensively in front of her. 

"Alex." Dean’s hand on her arm brought her back to reality and she lowered her wings. "Relax." His voice carried only the slightest bit of tension. "You're scaring them.”

Alex lowered her wings, the sudden rise of anger fading. She saw her own confusion reflected in Dean's eyes, although she knew her eyes held jealous anger and sadness as well. "My apologizes," she growled, and she pulled her wings in close, muscles tense. 

"I don't understand." Emmanuel squinted at Alex, studying her. "Who are you?" 

"I'm an angel." Alex forced down the last her anger, where it sat as a cold ball of ice in her gut. She felt Lucifer’s grace dip and churn within hers, an upsetting roll within her stomach. 

"Of the Lord?" 

"More or less.”

"You burned the demon's eyes out," Emmanuel’s gaze flickered across her face, his voice dropping back into the soft cadence so unlike Castiel.

Alex pushed the thought away, locking eyes with the man in front of her. “Yes. Me and demons don't exactly . . . get along." She resisted reaching out and feeling for Castiel’s grace again, contenting herself with curling her fingers in the hem of her sleeves.

Emmanuel nodded, and looked at Dean. "I saw their faces. Their real faces." 

"He was a demons."

"A demon walked on Earth," Emmanuel murmured, and Daphne squeezed his hand sympathetically. The gesture didn’t go unseen by Alex, who dug her teeth into the side of her cheek so hard she drew blood, fists clenched at her side and grace boiling beneath her skin. 

" _Demons_ ," Dean corrected, confused. "Wackloads of them,” he stated it like it was obvious fact. “You don't know about . . ." He trailed off. 

"You saw the demons' true faces." Daphne gave Emmanuel a sappy look that made Alex gag in disgust. He was hers. Not some human's. Emmanuel murmured in agreement. Daphne turned to Dean, not wanting to look at Alex. _Good_. “Emmanuel has very special gifts,” she explained to the Winchester. 

Alex almost laughed sarcastically out loud, but thankfully held her tongue, letting only a quiet breath leave through her nose.

"Yeah, I've heard about that . . . Emmanuel,” Dean said, shooting Alex a warning glance. “That you heal people up."

"I seem to be able to help people to a certain degree,” Emmanuel agreed. “ What's your issue?" 

"It’s my brother." Dean looked at the ground before returning to Emmanuel's gaze. He held Dean's for a few seconds before traveling over to Alex, who stared into his blue eyes. So long ago they had been so familiar, filled with warmth and love; now they were distant and strange, the love and warmth replaced with curiosity heavily guarded by fear. A sudden jolt of pain surged through her, and she looked away, unable to hold his gaze any longer. 

"Then what are we waiting for?" 

Dean looked extremely surprised. "Just like that?" 

"Of course. If someone needs my help, it is my job to help them. How far away is your brother?” 

“Uh, a two day’s drive, I guess. Northern Indiana.”

Emmanuel nodded before he turned to his wife. "I will be back soon,” he promised, reaching up to cup Daphne’s cheek.

"Please, stay safe." Daphne pulled him into an embrace, kissing him quietly. 

Alex took a step back, trembling with uncontrollable emotions, and Dean reached out to lead her away. "Let's go." He led Alex out of the house. "You don't need to see that.” 

“Dean.” Emmanuel’s voice had the hunter turning back. “Let me pack, and then we may leave.” He disappeared into the house, and Dean walked Alex to the car. 

"You need to calm down." Dean put a large hand on the female angel's shoulder. “Okay? I-I know this is weird —”

“Calm down?” Alex spun around to face Dean. “Calm down? How the hell am I supposed to do that? It’s all his fault, Dean! He’s the one who made me an angel because he said he loved me! Do you know what I’ve had to go through for him? Crowley? _Lucifer?”_ She drew in a ragged breath as tears stung her eyes. “He said he loved me, Dean. And I believed him. Through everything that he did, I never doubted that. For two whole years. He said he’d never leave me — he _promised_ — and then he faked his death for what? Four months? Four whole months? I thought when we’d find him, he’d be hurt or in pain not — he says he’s _married_. Four of the worst months of my life, and he’s off married to some random bitch! I prayed every night — I thought he was _dead_.” Her voice rose into a wail. “He’s my mate, Dean. I’ve been through hell to be with him.” Words tumbled breathlessly out of her mouth, too fast to be understood, and Dean pulled her into a tight hug, silencing her. 

Alex clutched at his jacket, letting herself fall apart in his embrace. She folded her wings around the both of them as Dean rested his chin on the top of her head, murmuring soothing words to calm her down. 

“Is she okay?” Emmanuel’s voice had Alex jerking her head away. Dean dropped his arms, and the angel took in a deep breath, wiping her eyes on her sleeves. 

“Yeah,” she lied. “Just . . . worried about Sam.” 

She climbed into the backseat of the Charger as Emmanuel asked Dean, “I take it Sam is your brother.” When Dean nodded, he continued, “And Alex. Is she your sister?”

“No, not really.” Dean opened the driver’s side door, leaving Emmanuel to circle around to the passenger side. “Not biologically, at least. But she’s family.” The car started and Alex curled up, wrapping herself in her wings and burying herself deep within her own pitiful thoughts. 

 

 **"D** oesn't she eat?" Emmanuel got back into the front seat, looking back at her. It was a several hours later, and the sky had grown quite dark, but Dean had insisted upon stopping for dinner. He and Emmanuel had gone into the restaurant for dinner, but Alex had refused to move, preferring to stay curled up, unmoving, in the backseat. 

Dean started the car, barely glancing back at her. "Depends." 

Alex scented the air. She smelled hamburger, and a stronger, fresh smell of fries. She held out her hand, and Dean snorted, dropping a take-out bag in her hand. She opened it and nibbled on the fried food.

Finally Dean spoke. "So Daphne, is, your, uh, your wife?" 

"She found me and cared for me," Emmanuel responded in his soft cadence, neither confirming nor denying Dean’s words.

"Meaning?" 

Emmanuel looked over at the Winchester. "Oh. It's a strange story. You may not like it." 

Alex huffed, and Dean sighed. "Believe me, I will."

"A few months ago, she was hiking by a river, and I wandered into her path, drenched and confused,  
and . . ." he paused, embarrassed, "unclothed. I had no memory. She said God wanted her to find me." 

Alex let out a barely inaudible growl at those words, but if either of the men in the front seat heard her, it wasn’t acknowledged. 

After a few seconds of silence Dean asked, ”So, who named you Emmanuel?" 

"Bouncingbabynames. com." 

"It means 'God with us.’ ” Alex shifted in her seat, gaze focusing on the back of Emmanuel’s familiar head. He turned to look back at her and she dipped her head, hiding her eyes. 

Dean nodded. "Well, it's working for you. Must be weird not knowing who you are." 

"Well it's my life. And it's a good life." 

Alex stiffened, and bit back a pained noise. She rolled over in the small space, facing the seat, glad for the darkness, as a single tear rolled down her face. She angrily wiped it away, hating herself for being so emotional. 

She felt Emmanuel look back at her once again. "Is she okay?" he asked, voice low and quiet, laced with genuine concern.

Dean glanced back at her too. "Yeah. She's just fine. Right Alex?" 

“Right.” Alex somehow managed to hold the pain out of her voice. “I’m, uh . . . just tired." 

"I don't know how to describe the emotions you're feeling towards me," Emmanuel admitted after a second’s pause. "It's rather confusing." 

Alex didn't respond, and Dean changed the subject. "So you remember nothing of your old life?" When Emmanuel nodded, he continued. "Well, what if you were some sort of, I don't know, bad person?" 

The healer narrowed his eyes, deep in thought. "I don't feel like a bad person," he finally admitted. More silence followed. "So your brother, Sam, right?" 

"Yeah Sam."

"Sam," he repeated. "What's his diagnosis?" 

"Well, it's not exactly medical." 

"That should be fine. I can heal illnesses of a spiritual origin." 

"Spiritual?" Dean looked surprised. "Okay. Somebody did this to him." He gripped the steering wheel tightly. 

"You're angry," Emmanuel noted. 

"Well, yeah. Dude broke my brother's head." 

"He betrayed you, this 'dude'. He was your friend?" 

"Yeah, well, he's gone now." 

"Did you kill him?" Emmanuel asked, sparing Dean a look. "I . . . sense that you kill a lot of people." Alex stifled a chuckle at how casually those words were spoken. 

"Honestly? I, I don't know if he's dead. I just know this whole thing couldn't be messier. You know, I use to be able to shake this stuff off. You know, whatever it was, it might take some time, but . . . I always could. But, what Cas did . . . I just can't. I don't know why . . ." Dean trailed off, shaking his head. 

"Well, it doesn't matter why." 

"Of course it matters why," Dean said sharply. 

"No. You're not a machine, Dean. You're human.” Emmanuel paused. “Your friend's name was Cas? That's an odd name." He turned to look back at Alex. "I sense you're angry at him too. Perhaps for a different reason?" 

"It doesn't matter anymore," Alex muttered. “Cas is gone.”

"Is she always like this?" Emmanuel asked Dean. 

"No. She's pretty worried about Sam. It's been hard on her." 

Alex bit back a sharp retort. _I don't need you to make excuses for me, Dean,_ she thought bitterly. She pulled her wings in tighter as the conversation died, and the car fell silent. 

 

 **"W** hat's wrong, _le mohoath_?" Alex was back in her house in heaven, standing in the middle of the bedroom. Lucifer was sitting by the window, wings folding forward as his concern grew. He stood up, but Alex could only stand there, tears flowing freely. Her mouth hung slightly open, and she was drawing in ragged breaths as her gaze roamed blankly around the room.

The archangel crossed over the carpet, and Alex buried her head in his chest, fingers digging into his shirt as his wings wrapped tightly around her. "Please stop," Lucifer whispered, rested his chin on her head. "You need to tell me what's the matter." He stroked her head gently. "Sh." He guided her over to the bed, and sat her down. 

Alex inhaled a shaky breath. "I'm okay," she finally said, wiping her nose with the back of her hand, wings trembling as she tried to force her emotions down. 

Lucifer wasn’t buying it. ”Is someone hurting you?" he asked, and Alex felt his anger grow at the possibility.

She quickly shook her head, turning back into his solid form. “No. N-Not on purpose." 

"You're not making any sense, _limlal ol le monans_ ," he insisted, murmuring Enochian comforts into her hair. 

"What does that mean?" Alex asked quietly, brushing away her tears. 

" _Limlal ol le monans_?" Lucifer smiled. "It means 'treasure of my heart'. Your turn. What do _you_ mean by not on purpose?" Alex didn't respond, and she just sniffled. "I'm just trying to help," Lucifer insisted, taking her face in his hands. “I can help, angel.” 

"I don't understand.” Alex reached up and removed his hand from her cheek. “W-Why are you so kind to me, yet always so mean to Sam?" 

The archangel shook his head. ” _Sam_ isn't my mate. My vessel or not, he’s still only human.”

Alex scoffed, brushing away the tears. "I'm not your mate either." 

"That's not how I see it." Lucifer pulled her close. "Now stop changing the subject. Who is hurting you?" 

"Nobody's hurting me. At least he's not trying to." Alex looked up into the angel's pale blue eyes, giving in and letting the words spill out. "He doesn't even remember me! He walked by me like I'm nobody. He's convinced he's married to some human, and I can't even look at him anymore." She began crying again. "He doesn't know me, and he's scared because he knows I'm an angel. He doesn't even have wings, Luce. I can't see his wings. Four months I thought he was dead, but no — he-he’s got some normal, apple-pie human life without me!" 

Lucifer nodded, trying to piece all of that together. "One question," he asked quietly, even though he had a sneaking suspicion of the answer. "Who?" 

" _Cas_ ," it came out as a whisper, and another tear rolled down her cheek, but Lucifer wiped it away. 

“So Castiel is back,” he repeated. Alex nodded, and opened her mouth to respond, but was cut short with a kiss. 

"Stop it, Lucifer." Alex angrily pushed him away. "Not now.”

 

 **"A** lex?" Large hands shook her awake, snapping Alex back into the real world. "You were dreaming again." 

Alex blinked open her eyes to see Dean looking back at her nervously. Early morning light passed through the Charger’s windows, indicating the day had recently begun. She struggled to sit up, unfolding her stiff wings from around her. 

"Did she say 'Lucifer'?" Emmanuel said quietly. 

Alex's head snapped over to him, face black with shock. “What?" 

"You were talking," Dean said tersely. "In your sleep." His voice grew sharp. "Dammit Alex, what the hell is he doing in your head? You said he was gone!” 

"He was!" Alex shot back. "But since Cas up and died, I've been kind of lacking in the mate department." 

“What the hell does that even mean?” Dean snapped. “He's your fucking mate now?” His green eyes flashed with anger, and Alex’s wings flared out.

"I don't understand," Emmanuel spoke up. "Who are we talking about?" 

"Lucifer," Alex and Dean growled in unison. 

"He's not my mate, Dean,” Alex continued. “The only reason I let him back in is so I wouldn't have to take a mate!" 

"As in, the devil, Lucifer?" Emmanuel persisted. 

"Shut _up_ , Cas!" Alex yelled. The car fell silent, and Alex winced internally at her outburst.

"I'm... not Cas." Emmanuel looked confused, turning to Dean for an explanation. When he was offered none, he looked back at the young angel. 

Alex flinched. “Right, sorry." She looked down at her lap, mumbling out an excuse. "You just, uh, remind me of him." 

"Anyone hungry?" Dean pointedly changed the subject. He opened the door and got out. Alex and Emmanuel started to follow, but he shook his head. "Oh, hey, hey. Just, uh, sit tight. I'll be right out, okay?" 

"Shouldn't Alex go with?" Emmanuel asked. 

"She's going to stay here and protect you. Make sure no demons come around." Dean stalked off towards a convenience store across the street. Alex watched him go inside, then got out of the car. 

"Dean said to stay here," Emmanuel reminded her. 

"Relax. I'm not going after him. I just need to stretch my legs." Alex slammed the door behind her. She leaned against the hood of the Charger, stretching her wings high above her head. They trembled with the strain, feathers ruffling softly in the light breeze. She heard Emmanuel get out of the car, and she could feel his gaze on her wings. 

“Can . . . can I touch them?" he asked suddenly. 

Alex huffed in amusement. “Sure. Knock yourself out." She pulled them down, stretching them out vertically so they were within the healer’s reach. She jumped as calloused fingers gently ran over the soft downy feathers on the inside of her wings. 

Emmanuel noticed, and pulled back. "Did I hurt you?" 

“Uh, no. It's just, that part is more sensitive.” Alex reached out to touch the lighter-colored feathers. “Usually they're kept hidden when the wing is folded against my back." She demonstrated, then stretched it back out so he could see them once again. 

The healer nodded in understanding. “Then what's the point of them?" 

"Not sure." Alex shrugged, focusing her attention on the tree across the street. “Uh, I think it's like when a dog shows their belly. Sort of a submission thing, I guess." 

"Hm. Then I’m sorry I touched them." 

"It's fine. I didn’t expect you to know.” 

Alex felt him reach out again, this time running his fingers through the coarser outer feathers. They drifted across the black vanes, pausing near the end of the feather where it faded to gold. "I always thought angel's wings were white,” Emmanuel admitted. 

“Yeah, no, they come in a lot of different colors. I’m not really sure how those colors are chosen though. Genetics, maybe. God’s design. Not sure. I haven’t met an angel with the exact same wing pattern; then again, I’m not huge on socializing. Mine are black and gold, Cas' were navy blue and black.” 

"What's it like?" 

"What's what like?" 

"Being an angel." Emmanuel leaned against the car next to her, and Alex folded her wings back against her back and out of the way. 

“Hm.” Alex turned the question back on him. “What do you think it’s like?” 

Emmanuel thought for a moment, carefully choosing his words. "I would think it would be nice,” he finally said, “but I can sense you feel otherwise." 

Alex let out a huff of amusement."You're smart," Alex admitted, nodding in agreement. "Have you always been able to sense others’ feelings?" 

"As far as I can remember; yes. It feels different with you, though. I believe it is because you're an angel."

"Different how?" Alex looked over at him. 

Emmanuel faintly blushed. "It feels more close. More, intimate, almost. Like I said, I don’t know why; you just feel . . . different.”

Alex let out a short, quiet laugh. "You asked what if feels like to be an angel,” she began, changing the subject. "It feels different than being human. Not better, not worse. Just... different." 

"How would you know what it feels like to be human?"

Alex let out a half smile, glad he picked up on it. "I haven't always been an angel." 

"I didn't know it was possible to become an angel." 

"Yeah, neither did I. But, long story short, I met an angel. His name was Castiel. He fell in love with me, and, when heaven offered him a chance to chose on female human to become a female angel, he chose me. That was almost three years ago." 

Emmanuel thought silently. "That left me with more questions than before," he finally admitted. 

"Yeah, it is pretty confusing. I’m still wrapping my mind around it all. Angels are a lot different than humans; it can get pretty messy when the two overlap.” 

"This, Castiel. That's Cas, isn't it?" When Alex nodded, he continued. "And he's gone?" Alex nodded again, leaning back on the hood, spreading her wings flat out across the warm metal. "He was your mate." 

Alex closed her eyes. "Yeah, he was." She could hear her voice shake, and knew the healer could hear it too. 

"You loved him." 

Alex snorted. "Yes, I did. But he loved me first. Brought me into this mess." 

"I remind you of him. That's why you won't talk to me," Emmanuel determined.

"Yes. I'm sorry, I really am, I just . . ." 

"I understand. You still grieve for him." The healer watched her for several seconds, eyes squinting slightly as he read her. “There’s still a lot of tension between the two of you. Why?” 

The young angel offered up a small shrug. “He wanted to be my mate, I didn’t want kids.”

“Isn’t that . . . avoidable?” Emmanuel’s face furrowed in confusion. “I’m sorry,” he quickly added, “I’m just trying to understand.”

“Yeah . . . I don’t actually . . . know.” Alex let out a long, drawn-out breath. “I guess communication wasn’t one of our strong points.” She chuckled. “I didn’t actually know I’d agreed to be an angel for almost six months.” 

“It sounds like the two of you need to talk.” When Alex didn’t verbally agree they fell into silence for a couple seconds before Emmanuel spoke once again. "You've been dreaming about the devil?" 

"What is this? Interrogate the angel hour?" Alex grumbled. "But, yes." 

"Have you ever met him?" 

"Yeah. Not one of my best weeks." 

Emmanuel looked confused, but didn't press it. "I can try and help you. I'm sure I can block him out for you." 

"No." Alex shook her head.

Emmanuel frowned. "I don't understand." 

"It's not that I don't want your help," Alex quickly backtracked. "It's just that, without him in my head, I'd have to take another mate. He, keeps me stable, if you will. And to be perfectly honest, he really isn't bad company." She laughed dryly. "He's only nice to me because he sees me as his mate. He treats Sam just horribly." 

"He's in Sam's dreams too?" 

"No. He's more of a hallucination. A real one. I can see him too, although that's because I'm hooked into Sam's optical feed." 

Emmanuel nodded, even though he didn't understand what she was saying. Alex lapsed into silence. She watched the store across the road. The "Closed" sign was in the window, which Alex found strange. "Tell me about Castiel." 

Alex looked up. "You want to hear about Cas? Why?" 

"I want to know how I remind you of him." 

"Okay." Alex shrugged. She looked up into Emmanuel's blue eyes, but couldn't hold his gaze. "He had dark hair, like you, with blue eyes, brighter than I've ever seen. Of course, he's an angel, so stuff like that is how his vessel looked. By vessel I mean some guy he's possessing. Except he can't possess someone without their permission. Not like demons. They just jump in. Anyways. He has wings, larger than mine, and they're dark blue, a little darker than your sweater thing. And the primary feathers are tipped in black." 

"Primary?" 

"These." Alex pointed to her large, black primary feathers. She smiled as a thought came to her. "e knows nothing about humans, so it's always fun to watch him experience, human, stuff. I don't think he even knows how to tie his shoe," she joked. 

"He sounds nice," Emmanuel said politely. 

"He was," Alex sighed. "He said he'd always be there for me, and he would never stop loving me for anything, and I believed him. But now . . ." She shook her head in despair. "Oh well. Enough about me." She forced a smile. "How about you? You and Daphne, eh?" 

"Yes," Emmanuel nodded. "She has been kind to me." He looked over at Alex, who looked sad. "Have I upset you?" 

"No, no. I'm sorry." Alex straightened up, but continued to stare at the ground. "Hang on." She walked around to trunk and opened it up, shifting through the junk. She heard footsteps, and she pushed her grace out before slamming the trunk shut. 

“Her face!” she heard Emmanuel exclaim in alarm. “She’s one of —”

“It’s okay. We come in many flavors.” The familiar, female voice had Alex stalking around the Charger, wings flared as she came face to face with the demon. Meg’s gaze swept over Alex before finally coming to rest on her wings. “You’ve changed.”

“She’s, uh, a friend,” Dean half-heartedly explained to Emmanuel.

“Relax.” Meg steadily held Alex’s gaze. “I’m just here for moral support.” She turned to Emmanuel. "I mean, after all, we go way back.” When Emmanuel looked confused, she added, “Dean and me. And Alex, sort of. Just met you, of course. But I think we're going to be good friends, too." The demon’s sly grin grew when Alex hissed. 

"Alright, let's go." Dean got into the car. 

"Hold up. She's coming too?" Alex exclaimed, eyes growing dark. "No way. I draw the line at demons, Dean." 

"She's coming, Alex. End of it." Dean glared at her before getting into the car. 

Meg smirked, stalking towards the backseat, and Alex grabbed the demon by her collar and swung her into the car door, wings flared. “Now you listen to me,” she growled. “The only reason you’re still breathing right now is ‘cause Dean thinks you’re gonna be useful. And there’s a possibility that I might need you, you understand? So stay useful.” With that she shoved Meg against the car again before letting go, and stalked around to the other side, getting into the backseat and slamming the door. She left the front seat to Emmanuel; she’d rather sit next to a demon than have her amnesia’d angel sit beside one. She might not remember much from the show, but she knew damn well Cas fell for Meg in the show. 

Her lip pulled up into a snarl at the thought, and Dean glanced back at her. “Stop growling at the demon,” he reprimanded. “She hasn’t done anything.” 

“Do I have to sit next to the sad, little angel?” Meg frowned. “Can’t I sit next to cute little Emmanuel?” 

“No thank you.” Emmanuel politely declined her offer, shifting awkwardly in his seat, and Alex growled again, curling her wings tightly around her. 

“Alex. Shut up and be nice.” Dean started up the car, and Alex angrily turned her gaze out the window as they drove away. “At least be civil,” she heard him mumble under his breath, and she shot a glare his way before turning back to the window.

 

 **T** hey drove in complete silence. The sun went down, and the moon rose, casting an eerie glow on the road ahead. "The silence is very uncomfortable,” Emmanuel finally said. “Is there something I should know?”

"I don't know. Dean?" Meg asked. 

"No. Meg has that effect. Awkward. You know?" Dean responded. Alex snickered, hating how her grace bubbled in protest beneath her skin as the dark, cold essence of the demon made her hair stand on end. 

"That must very difficult for you." Emmanuel sounded genuinely sorry. 

"Dean's making a joke, Emmanuel," Meg informed him. 

"Oh." They lapsed back into silence. 

Alex rested her forehead against the cold window. Despite the awkward silence and tension, and the fact there was a demon less than a foot away from her, Alex fell asleep. 

 

 **S** he opened her eyes to see Lucifer watching her, perched on the back of the couch in her living room. “How are you doing today?” he asked, wings stretching out as he balanced. “Cas not giving you too much trouble?” Alex felt tears prick at her eyes, and the devil quickly approached, face twisting into a sincere apology. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “Let’s not talk about that seraph, okay?” He trailed light fingers down her forearm until he reached her hand, taking it in his and pulling her towards the couch, holding her tight and brushing the tears from her eyes. “If you want I’ll tell you how Sam is doing.”

“Okay.” Alex squirmed out of his grasp, setting on the far end of the couch.

The devil folded his legs up underneath him, looking thoughtful. “He’s doing better with the sleep,” he agreed. “Although he’s become twice as temperamental. Let’s see; today I woke him with firecrackers, then brought out the megaphone — do you know he still won’t look to me? He and this girl started to talk; turns out she was being haunted by a ghost.” The devil cocked an eyebrow at the young angel. “Just another day in the life of a Winchester, I suppose. Afterwards we went back to the firecrackers —”

“Okay, okay. Stop.” Alex reached out with her wing and brushed her feathers across his chest. “I don’t need to hear about how you tortured my friend — which I wish you’d stop doing, by the way.” 

The devil’s face grew dark. “Sam Winchester is the reason I’m back in hell.”

“You were going to fight your brother and scorch half the planet,” she retorted.

“I was the one who wanted to _avoid_ fighting.” Lucifer’s voice rose in protest. “Michael’s my brother; I couldn’t kill him.”

“You still wanted to kill all of the humans.” Alex leaned back against the arm of the couch, shaking her head. “That’s why you’re back in the Cage. If Sam hadn’t put you there, I would’ve. Would you torture me?” 

Lucifer chuckled, shaking his head. “ _Le mohoath_ , I couldn’t do that to you.” He slid forward, silent as a snake, until his hands were on either side of her waist, holding him above her. Alex looked up at him, quirking an eyebrow, but offered no protest, and the devil grinned. “I’ll take that as the go ahead,” he murmured, dipping his head to kiss her. Alex reached up, curling her fingers around his neck to pull him down. 

“Alex?” 

Both her and Lucifer looked up. “Sounds like someone’s waking you up,” the archangel commented dryly. “Always during the good parts of the dream, huh?” He kissed her one last time before she faded into darkness. 

 

 **“A** lex?” Meg was shaking the angel awake. Alex blinked, eyes snapping open as she realized who was touching her. She let out a wordless noise of warning, and the demon pulled away. 

“We’re almost there,” Dean explained, looking back at her through the rearview mirror. 

Emmanuel turned in his seat to look at the young angel. “Were you dreaming again?” he asked, face filled with only innocent curiosity.

Alex frowned. “What’s it to you?” she shot back defensively, crossing her arms. 

“Was Lucifer there?” 

“Lucifer?” Meg looked over at Alex in surprise. “You seriously dream about Lucifer?” When Alex didn’t respond, Meg turned to look back out the windshield, quirking an eyebrow. “Kinky.”

“Don’t think I won’t kill you in the car,” Alex shot back, wings rising in the small confined space of the car, confidence shooting through her as Meg shifted away.

“He keeps her stable,” Emmanuel explained, ducking his head and turning back around when Alex shot him a dark glare.

“Hey hey hey.” Dean’s voice rose above the rest of theirs. “Stop bickering and settle down. Alex, stop threatening Meg, okay? And no, I’m not on her side,” he added before Alex could protest. “Just keep it down. We’ll be at the hospital in five minutes and then you two can fight it out all you want, understand?” 

“Yeah.” Alex crossed her arms and slumped down in her seat, glaring out the window. “I can wait.” 

 

 **T** hey drove in silence until they reached the hospital. Dean parked the car on the hill above the back parking lot to the hospital, and Alex threw the car door open as she got out, shaking her wings out in frustration. Meg and Emmanuel followed, and the angel positioned herself between the demon and her angel. “Oh, gracious.” Emmanuel looked down over the parking lot, where four people paced. 

“Damn it,” Meg agreed. “Demons.” 

“All of them?” 

Alex grunted in agreement, and the demon added sarcastically, “No grass growing under _your_ feet.”

Emmanuel looked down at Alex. “How many of those demons can you kill?” he asked quietly. 

“How many? I don’t know. I mean, I could run down there and throw my grace out, but that’ll kill everyone with their eyes open in that building, not to mention alert any other demons in the area.” She shook her head. “And I wouldn’t be able to kill all of the demons one by one; that’s too much work for me. I don’t have enough practice, I don’t have enough grace.”

“Any ideas where we can find an angel with that much juice on such short notice?” Meg asked, and Alex glared at the demon, knowing what she was suggesting. 

Dean heard it as well, and asked pointedly, “Excuse me?” 

The demon let out a loud sigh. “For the love of . . .” She grabbed Dean by the arm and dragged him a short distance away. 

Alex pointed at Emmanuel. “Stay there,” she ordered, hurrying over to the demon. 

“Sam’s in there,” Meg was saying, voice exasperated. “I know you’re enjoying the double dip with your old pal, but . . .”

“You think it’s that cut and dry?” Dean hissed. “Really? You know what he did. And you want us to tell him and hope he takes it in stride? He could snap! He could . . . disappear. Who knows?” 

“We don’t even know if he’ll remember,” Alex added angrily. “I’m his mate, for God’s sake! If he can’t remember me —”

“I gather we know each other.” All three spun around to see Emmanuel standing behind them. 

Both Alex and Dean looked embarrassed, and Alex’s wings fell low, but Meg remained unnervingly calm. “Just a dollop,” she agreed. 

Emmanuel looked between Alex and the Winchester. “You can tell me,” he insisted. “It’ll be fine.” 

Alex let out a scoffing breath, and Dean shook his head. “How do you know that?” he asked sharply. “You’ve just met yourself. We’ve known you for years.”

“You’re an angel.”

Emmanuel looked over at Meg in confusion. “I’m sorry. Is that a flirtation?” 

“No. It’s a species. And a very powerful one. Just like Alex over here.” 

Alex flared her wings out angrily as she felt the demon motion towards her, and Emmanuel cocked his head. “I’m not an angel,” he insisted, looking very much confused. “I can’t be. I don’t have wings.” He looked down at Alex. “Am I?” 

“She’s not lying,” Alex reluctantly admitted. “You are an angel.” Her feet scuffled on the dirt, unsure of how her mate would take the news.

“That’s why you heal people,” the demon continued. “And why you don’t need to eat. I’m sure there’s more.” 

The healer looked down at Alex, and then over at Dean Winchester. “I don’t understand,” he finally said. “Why didn’t you tell me? Being an angel sounded pleasant.”

“Trust me, it’s not. It’s bloody, it’s corrupt, and definitely not pleasant.” 

“He would know,” Meg added with a smirk. “You three used to fight together you know. Bestest friends, actually —”

“Shut up!” Alex finally snapped, turning her head to glare at the demon. “Just shut up!” 

“Am, am I Cas?" Emmanuel looked from Dean to Alex. "I, I had no idea." He held Alex's gaze. "That's why you were so jealous around Daphne. I'm your mate." He looked overwhelmed. "I'm sorry. I, I don't remember you.”

Alex closed her eyes, but didn't respond. "Look," Meg broke in. "You got the juice. You can smite every demon in that lot." 

"Are you sure?" Emmanuel looked at Alex. 

"Yeah." Her voice cracked with pain, but she pushed it away with a small nod of her head. "You're a seraphim. You could smite four times that many demons and never break a sweat." 

"But I don't remember how." 

"It's in there," Dean promised. "It's like riding a bike." 

"He doesn't know how to do that either," Alex admitted for him. She shook away the memories and folded her wings forward. "Look, it isn't hard. I had to learn for myself too. Just . . . focus on your grace. It'll burn the sin right out of them. Or something like that.” She stepped back, not knowing what else to say.

Emmanuel looked scared, which made Alex afraid as well. However, after a second his face hardened in determination. ”Alright. I'll try it." He slowly yet determinedly walked off towards the demons.

"This ain't going to end well," Dean muttered. 

"I don't know," Meg disagreed. "I believe in our little tree topper." 

Alex didn't put in her opinion. She sat down on the hood of the car, watching worriedly. She saw one of the demons approach Emmanuel, and Emmanuel reached out. White light lit up the night, and the demon crumpled to the ground, dead. Alex smiled in relief, knowing that he was going to be okay. The healer strolled forward, and Alex watched as he smote two demons at the same time. 

One started to run, and wings unfurled from Emmanuel's shoulders, exploding out into the sky in a flash of navy and black feathers as he thrust them down, disappearing from sight and landing right front of the runner. A second later it was dead. Dean and Meg moved down the hill and approached the angel, but Alex hung back, afraid of how he would react to her. She only stood up, watching intently. She saw Castiel turn around to face Meg and Dean. They shared a few words, then Castiel flared his wings, thrusting them down and shooting up into the sky. Alex narrowed her eyes. 

“I remember you.” 

Alex spun around at Castiel’s deep voice, and her wings fell open at the sight of her mate. His navy wings were pinned tightly against his back, and Alex let out a nervous smile. “Yeah? Well, it’s about bloody time.”

“Why did you invite Lucifer back?” 

“Can we not talk about this right now? Please?” Alex stepped closer, folding her wings towards him. “I’ve just spent the past four months without you. I just, I —” she struggled for words, and shook her head. “I need you.” She stepped toward the angel, reaching out for a hug, needing to be close to him, but Castiel moved back, leaving Alex to drop her arms back by her side, looking deeply hurt. Dean and Meg hurried up the hill to stand beside her, and Alex shifted closer to Dean.

Castiel looked forlorn. “What I did. What I became. Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“Because Sam is _dying_ in there,” Dean said.

“Because of _me_ ," Castiel shot back, pain breaking his voice. "Everything. All these people." He met Alex's gaze. "I shouldn't be here." He turned around and began to walk away. 

"Cas. Cas!" Dean ran after the angel. Meg started to follow. 

"Stay there," Alex hissed, taking off after them. “Cas, wait! Please!”

“If you remember, then you know you did the best you could at the time," Dean said angrily, following Castiel. 

Cas stopped and spun around. "Don't defend me," he snarled. "Do you have any idea of the death toll in Heaven? On Earth?" His eyes clouded with grief, and Alex resisted the temptation to comfort him, instead holding her ground beside the Winchester. "We didn't part friends, Dean." 

"So what?" Dean asked angrily. 

"I deserved to die," Castiel insisted. "Now, I can't possibly fix it. So why did I bother walking out of that river?"

Dean hesitated. "Maybe to fix it,” he finally said. “Wait here." Dean walked back to the car. Castiel turned to leave, but Alex grabbed him by the wrist. 

“Don’t you ever say you deserve to die,” she hissed. “Because you don’t.” Tears welled up, but she forced them back. “How could you ever do that to me? I thought you were _dead_. I had to keep living without you, and I didn't want to. I — I don’t understand, Cas. Why would you do that to me?”

Castiel shook his head. “You didn't love me, Alex. What did it matter to _you?”_

Alex stared up at Castiel, mouth hanging open in disbelief as Dean approached. Castiel stared at her, emotions flitting through his eyes, but he didn’t apologize. Dean stopped beside Alex, and she closed her eyes, turning away. ”Here.” Dean held Castiel's trench coat out to him. 

Castiel took it numbly, running his hand over the fabric. "Thank you," he muttered. He raised his wings and disappeared. Alex heard his wings flutter, but she didn’t bother to feel for where he went. It didn't seem to matter.

Dean cursed at the seraph’s exit. "Come on," he finally said. "Let's go find Sam. You stay here," he told Meg, and led Alex into the hospital. She followed Dean up the stairs, grace searching the rooms in front of her as they moved into the psychiatric ward. 

Alex slid to a stop to see Castiel helping Sam back to him room. "We thought you left!" Dean snapped, hurrying forward to help the angel support his barely conscious brother. Alex followed, eyes wide in confusion as to why Sam was in such a state. 

She opened her mouth to ask what had happened, but Lucifer appeared by her side. “Pity,” he commented, watching as Castiel laid Sam down on the bed. “I suppose Cas will be throwing me out again.” His voice was light, but Alex cast a glance up at his face to see anger darkening it. She growled at his words, and hurried over to Sam, who, as she watched, slipped into unconsciousness.

 

 **T** he next day, Alex was sitting on Sam’s bed, one hand resting on the hunter’s leg as Lucifer sat by the bedside, a children’s book in his hands. “I see that the third little pig was smart,” he was saying. “Went out and bought some bricks.”

Alex chuckled. “Good for him,” she agreed, shifting to rest her chin on her close hand. 

“Alex.” Castiel’s voice had Alex turning to the angel who was standing by the door. “Who are you talking to?”

Lucifer paused in his storytelling, looking over at the seraph. “You gonna tell him or should I?” he asked, and Alex looked over at the devil, and eyebrow raised. 

“Lucifer,” Sam responded, and Alex turned to look over at the Winchester, shooting him a glare of betrayal. 

Castiel stepped forward, wings arching upwards. “You can see him?” 

“Yeah. I’m tapped into Sam’s optical feed.” Alex swung her feet over the bed and got up, moving to him. “He can’t hurt me, Cas.”

“Why?” 

“Oh, I’m sorry.” The young angel bared her teeth slightly in frustration. “It’s not exactly like you’ve been around. I needed some angel to keep me company, thank you very much. And why the hell do you even care? You’re the one who left me.”

Castiel’s wings flared, and Alex matched his challenge, refusing to back down. “I was as good as dead,” he growled. “You continually rejected me time and time again. I gave you time, Alex. I gave you a year, but you still wouldn’t accept me.”

Alex glanced behind her, and reached out, grabbing Castiel’s arm. “Can we talk outside?” Without waiting for an answer she pulled the angel into the hallway, shutting the door behind them. “Why do you keep saying I rejected you?” she snapped. “I don’t understand, Cas. I’ve been there for you; I’ve tried to hard to keep you safe.”

“You’ve kept your grace from me.” Castiel gently pushed his grace against hers, and Alex’s embraced it, tendrils entwining. The seraph pulled away. “You say you wanted to be my mate, but you’re still holding yourself separate. I can’t wait for you forever. _You_ can’t wait forever. It’s not natural for you to be like this.” Alex opened her mouth, ready to respond, but Castiel wasn’t done. “I don’t understand why you’re doing this to me. To yourself. You need to choose.” He looked up into Alex’s eyes, hurt swimming in his blue gaze. “You have to make your decision.”

“I _made_ my decision, Cas.” Alex stepped forward, wings curling around the seraph. “After you walked into that lake… Death came to me. The Horseman Death. He gave me a choice; stay angel or go back to being human. I chose to stay with you. It just . . . it just took you walking into that lake for me to see it.”

Castiel looked away as Alex leaned closer, and she fell back off of her tiptoes in confusion. “Perhaps it’s too late,” he murmured. “The things I’ve done; I have to pay for the damage I’ve caused. For Sam, for heaven.” He looked back towards the closed door. “I can’t fix Sam, but I may be able to shift the problem.” 

“No.” Alex grabbed the lapels of his trench coat, drawing his attention back to her. “I know what you’re thinking, and don’t do it. Lucifer will eat you _alive_ , okay? Please.” She stepped closer, pressing herself into Castiel, and her eyes fell closed as his grace wreathed around her. “You just got back. I can’t let you leave me again.”

“I’m sorry. This is something I need to do. I deserve this.” 

“But I don’t!”

The seraph shook his head. “Alex, I'm sorry about everything. About leaving you, about Daphne, about letting you think I was dead. But I need to do this." He wrapped his arms around Alex, wings keeping her close, and the angel melted into his touch. “ _Le pas enay_ , you are the one thing that has kept me alive.” Tears stung at the young angel’s eyes, and she buried her head in Castiel’s chest as he continued. “I _will_ come back for you.”

“Yeah. Same here.” It came out as a whisper, and Alex stood up on her tiptoes and softly kissed her mate. The kiss was chaste, but the young angel’s grace still thrummed as he kissed her back. “Please make it fast.” She followed Castiel back into the room. "Hang on." Alex walked up to Sam, and gently touched him on the forehead, severing the connection allowing her to see Lucifer. "Okay." 

"Now Sam," Castiel began, "This may hurt. And if I can't tell you again, I'm sorry I ever did this to you." Alex wanted to close her eyes, not wanting to watch, but found herself unable to look away. Castiel placed his hand over Sam's forehead, and the veins around Sam's eyes glowed red, forcing the Winchester to let out a cry of pain. The red light travelled up the veins in Castiel's arm and neck, and into his eyes. He remained silent, but he trembled from the utter pain he was feeling. Alex tore her gaze away, finding it too painful to watch. Dean rushed over to Sam, who suddenly became alert. 

"Dean!" Sam shouted. 

"Sam?" Dean called. Alex stood backed up against the door. Castiel tore his arm away, standing completely still, staring at the ground. 

"Cas?" Sam looked surprised. "Cas, is that you?" 

Castiel looked up at Sam. Horror spread across his face, and he stood up, backing away very slowly until he was standing against the wall, trembling. Alex closed her eyes, unable to see her mate that way. Sam and Dean exchanged glances, and Alex stepped out into the hall, eyes squeezed shut as she slumped to the floor against the wall. She drew her knees up to her chest and buried her head in between them, wrapping her arms around her legs as she stared blankly at the wall across from her.

A few seconds later the door opened, and both Winchesters stepped into the hallway. “Hey, Pip?” He approached her, and Sam followed close behind. “Alex? You alright?”

She didn’t give a direct answer, but instead she quietly asked, “Is, is Cas —”

“We think it's best to check him in here, Pip. It's the safest place for him right now, and we can’t take him along.”

“How bad is he?” Alex pushed her grace into the room, but pulled it back before she felt her mate, too scared at what she would find. “I-I can handle him. I — I’ll get us a motel room in town. I’ll take care of him, Dean.” 

The Winchesters exchanged looks, and her heart flipped. Dean hesitantly began, “Alex, we don’t even know if he’s still conscious in there.” He knelt down beside her, and a large, gentle hand came to rest on her knee. “I know what he means to you, but we need you more. These Leviathans — they’re not something we can do by ourselves. We need every hand on deck.” 

Alex looked between Sam and Dean, and she ran a hand down her face and over her mouth. “I don’t want to,” she whispered, but nodded all the same; Dean was right. She sniffled and cleared her throat, regaining her composure. “Just . . . just give me a minute with him. Please.” When both Winchesters nodded in agreement she stood up and slipped into the room inside. 

Castiel was sitting on the bed, staring blankly at the wall. “Cas?” Alex crossed the room to sit beside her angel, but only the twitch of his wings acknowledged her presence. “Please, man. Hurry up and shake this. Get back on your feet.” She gingerly reached out to touch her mate’s grace, pulling back at the turmoil inside. “Please. I . . . I’ll be here the minute you get better.” She reached out and placed a hand over his, entwining their fingers. His hand felt so real, so solid. _So cold and lifeless_. She gave it a squeeze, wings drooping when there was no response. She sighed, reaching up to run her hand through the side of his hair. “I love you,” she murmured, leaning forward to brush a kiss over his temple. “I’ll be here for you when you call. Promise.”

Castiel didn't respond, and Alex stood up, closing the door behind her before she hurried down the stairs and out of the building. Dean was leaning against the Charger when Alex approached. “Everything okay?” 

“Yeah,” the angel half-lied. She pulled open the back door and crawled into her seat. “Let’s just go.” Dean started the car, and the radio hummed to life as they drove away. 

_Beautiful loser_  
_Never take it all_  
_'Cause it's easier_  
_And faster when you fall_

_You just don't need it all_


	39. Party On, Garth

**A** lex’s phone rang, stirring the angel from her half-asleep state. The angel uncurled herself from the backseat of the car in confusion, leaning over the seat to reach into the trunk area. She blindly grasped for her bag until she found her phone in the front pocket. “What?” she answered grumpily, returning to her seat and picking her half-liter of Mountain Dew up from the cooler. 

“Hey, Alex. It’s Garth.”

“Garth? Hey!” The angel immediately brightened up at the familiar voice. “How’d that, uh, that Keres thing work out?” Alex put a finger to her mouth when Dean looked back at her, shaking her head for him to be quiet. 

“It worked out just fine, surprisingly. Actually, hunting’s why I’m calling. Are the Winchesters with you?”

“Uh, yeah.” Alex nodded, taking a long swig of her drink before screwing the cap back on. “Why, man? What’s up?” 

“I’m gonna need to cash in that favor Dean owes me,” the hunter slowly said. “From the demon thing? There’s something brewing in Junction City, Kansas. Think you guys can swing it?” 

“Hang on.” Alex pushed the phone into her shoulder and leaned forward. “Garth says he’s got a case down in Junction City,” she told the brothers. “He also says that you owe him from that demon case when, uh, Sam here was married?” She looked over at the younger Winchester, who just shrugged, and the young angel’s wings flicked in sympathy; he still looked tired. 

She turned back to Dean, and he nodded. “Okay,” he agreed, then cast a look at his brother. “You up for it, Sam?” 

“Yeah, sure. I mean, we’ve got nothing on Dick, so . . .”

“Yeah, they’re in.” Alex leaned back in her seat and brought her phone back up. “We should be able to be in Junction City by, what, tomorrow morning? I’ll let you know when we get closer, okay?”

“Yeah, sounds good. I’ll see you then.” 

“Yeah, see you.” Alex hung up, flipping her phone shut and dropping it on the seat beside her. She leaned forward, head resting close to Sam’s. “Kansas it is. You good for driving?” 

“Yeah, I’m fine, actually.” Sam shifted his grip on the steering wheel as he nodded. “I’m getting better.”

“Good.” Alex pulled away with a nod. “I’m glad you’re okay.” She settled down in her seat, fumbling for the thin blanket that was crumpled on the ground. “I’m gonna try and catch a nap; I haven’t slept since Indiana.” She tucked the blanket under her head, using her wings to curl around her as blankets. She heard one of the Winchesters say something of an agreement with her plan as she closed her eyes and faded out of consciousness. 

 

 **“I** t’s about time.” Alex was back in her house in her mind, and she looked around, confused as to where the devil’s voice was coming from. She was standing in the kitchen, and her wings twitched as she looked around before she tipped her head. Lucifer was perched on top of the fridge, legs crossed and wings lax as he looked down upon her. 

“Get down from there,” Alex snapped, folding her arms across her chest. “What are you doing up there anyways?”

Her grace twitched in irritation, and the devil sensed it, large wings balancing him as he gracefully jumped to the floor. “Is everything alright?” he questioned, sauntering forward. “I haven’t seen you in almost a week.”

“I haven’t been tired.” 

A gentle hand chucked her under the chin, forcing the young angel to raise her head. “You’re upset with me,” the archangel noted, large wings curling around her. His frown deepened when Alex tore herself out of his grasp. “Alex. Look at me.” 

“Fuck off.”

Suddenly her back was against the wall, and the breath was knocked out of her lungs as Lucifer pinned her wrists against the wall, leaving her defenseless. His large hand held them there, but his grip wasn’t tight, nor did anger dance in his eyes. “Watch your tone,” he only warned. “I don’t appreciate being spoken to in that manner. Now tell me what is wrong before I go looking for answers in this skull of yours.” 

He dropped her wrists and stepped back, and Alex pulled her wings in tight. “It’s you,” she snapped bluntly. “You’re my problem, okay?” She stalked past the archangel and into the den, plopping down on the sofa as she crossed her arms. “You . . . you took Cas away from me, Luce. I _finally_ had him back, just the way he was.” She looked up at the devil. “I just want him back. I _need_ him back.” 

Lucifer sat down on the coffee table in front of her, frustration darkening his gaze. “That’s why I’m here,” he all but growled. “I’m your mate. I’m the one Father destined you for.” He shifted so he was sitting on the couch, kneeling so he was facing her. “How can you not feel it? It’s so clear.” He looked around the house, and this time a growl did pass through his chest. With a snap of his fingers, everything changed. 

Alex looked around to find herself sitting on the couch in Bobby’s study, and as she recognized her surroundings her eyes watered. “What —”

“I didn’t like that house,” the archangel decided. “It’s the same place in Castiel’s head.” He stood up, wings stretching almost to the far walls. 

“I don’t understand. Did . . . can we go anywhere?” 

Lucifer shook his head. “This is someplace special to you,” he started, raising his hand and twirling his finger to motion to the house. “Somewhere you felt at peace. I don’t understand specifics, but I’m carding through the different settings, and there’s not a lot to choose from. This, Castiel’s house, the backseat of the Impala.” He raised an eyebrow before adding, “Unless you’d prefer a car.”

“This is fine.” Alex stood up and walked over to the desk, numbly brushing her fingers across the blank sheets of paper scattered on the desk. “Why are they blank?” 

“You don’t know what’s on them.” Lucifer walked up behind her, wings folding around her waist, and hands on her hips tugged her backwards. “Your mind doesn’t know what to project,” he murmured against her neck.

Alex jerked away. “Stop it,” she snapped, shoving the archangel across the room. “I said no, okay? I’m not your mate.”

She watched as Lucifer’s eyes hardened, and he shook his wings out. “Castiel’s stirring,” he finally said, voice cold. “And that’s my cue to leave; we can’t have him getting too comfortable, now can we?” His grace pushed through the room, and everything went black. 

 

**July 12, 2012**

**Junction City, Kansas**

**A** lex’s eyes snapped open the next second to a bright light. She reached out instinctively, and her fingers closed around something soft. “Hey hey hey hey.” Sam’s voice was beside her, and as the angel’s vision focused on her surroundings, she found the Winchester beside her, a concerned look on his face. 

“Uh . . . hey.” Alex let go of the hunter’s suit coat and slowly smoothed it down. “Sorry, uh . . .”

“It's fine. You were moving in your sleep, and I wanted to make sure you were okay.” Sam ran a hand through his long brown hair. “We’re here anyways. Go get changed and we’ll get over to the morgue.”

“Okay, yeah.” Alex fished her duffle bag out of the trunk and crawled out of the AMC Pacer, rolling her shoulders back as her feathers ruffled. A quick glance around showed them to be parked in the back of a gas station, and she rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I’m just changing in the backseat,” she told the Winchester. “Dean’s in the bathroom?” When Sam nodded she asked, “Could you maybe . . . get me a coffee while I change? I’ll be quick.”

The hunter nodded. “Uh, sure. No problem. I’ll be right back.” He walked away, and Alex slipped back into the car. 

 

 **F** ifteen minutes later she and the Winchesters were following the coroner down a long, white hallway lit with cold, fluorescent lights. She had phoned Garth on the way to the morgue, and he said that he would meet them there; whether that meant he would be there before or after them wasn’t clear. 

She pushed her way through a set of stainless steel double doors to find her answer, and she snapped her jaw shut as it fell open in surprise. “Oh.” 

She recognized Garth Fitzgerald IV immediately; he was standing by the cloth-covered corpse dressed in a complete desert camouflage uniform. “Well, this is it,” Dr. Wilson announced. He motioned to Garth and added, “This is Corporal Brown.”

“Corporal James Brown.” Garth spoke with a clear, clipped tone, back straight and shoulders back as he slipped into character. “I’m shipping off to the AF mañana. I’m here to pay my respects to my cousin as I will not be able to attend the funeral.”

Above her head, the Winchesters exchanged looks, but the coroner only nodded sympathetically. “That must be terrible for your family. Losing two brothers so fast.” 

_Brothers?_ The two victims were brothers? Alex looked over at Garth, who blinked in surprise. “Yeah. Yeah. My aunts — she’s, uh . . . real broken up about it.”

“Hey, Doc, can we see both files, please?” Sam asked.

“Mm-hmm.” Dr. Wilson crossed the room to grab it, he returned to hand them over just as his phone rang. “Ah.” He pulled it out of his pocket and nodded. “My wife. I’ll, uh, be in my office.” The coroner excused himself, and Alex let her shoulders fall into a more relaxing position. 

“You didn’t say they were brothers,” Sam snapped. 

Garth immediately went on the defense. “Dude, I just found out about the other corpse and . . . started moving quick. I’m sucking up info as I go.” 

“What are you, allergic to a suit?” 

Alex nudged Dean with her shoulder, and Garth looked taken-aback. “No. I just . . . look good in a uniform.” 

“So, what’s with this case?” Alex asked, changing the subject. “I took a nap in the car, so I really don’t know what’s up.”

“Files say both brothers had the same cause of death,” Sam announced, dropping the folders on the nearby table and crossing the room to sit down at the small computer located on one of the stainless steel carts. 

“Right,” Garth agreed, “uh, gutted at night in the woods, where legend says the ghost is Jenny Greentree roams.” He watched as Dean pulled his EMF detector out of his pocket and quickly said, “Of course I already scanned for EM —” The detector started flashing, red lights lighting up, and Garth blinked. “F,” he finished. His shoulders fell, and he added, “Oh. Um . . I guess mine must be broken again.”

“Alright, I’m reading your mail.” Dean shoved the detector back into his pocket. “Uh, ghost of Jenny . . . whatever?” 

“Greentree. That’s just it. I torched her bones.” 

“Yeah, well maybe she’s got something still lying around.” 

“Highly doubtful.” Garth firmly shook his head. “Chick was homeless. Plus, is it me, or is this less evil spirit, more monster chow?” He motioned to the corpse, and Alex lifted up the sheet so she and Dean could see what lay beneath. The abdomen was shredded, the muscle and organs reduced to little more than a pulp, and Alex dropped the sheet back down, wings flicking in disgust, but she quickly grunted her agreement. 

“A werewolf?" Dean suggested.

“Except, uh, the witnesses said that whatever was chasing vic numero uno was invisible.”

Dean thought for a moment then chuckled. “So, invisible ghost werewolf?” 

“Why’d you think I called for backup?” Garth looked over at Alex, and she nodded, shoving her hands back into her pockets.

“Hey.” Sam’s voice had the angel looking up. “Any of you guys ever heard of Thighslapper Ale?” 

Alex snorted in amusement at the name, shaking her head, and Garth asked, “Is that a stripper or a beverage?” 

“Beverage for douchebags.”

Sam looked over at his brother’s commentary, exasperation tinging his face as he expounded, “Uh, number one microbrew in the Pacific Northwest.”

“But we’re in Kansas.” 

Dean nodded. “Yeah, I rest my case.” Turning back to his brother he asked, “What’s your point?”

“The owner is the dad to the dead brothers. Jim McAnn.” 

Alex raised her eyebrows. “Well that’s not suspicious at all.” She crossed the room to look down at the screen in front of the Winchester. “No way that’s involved in all of this.” 

“Right.” Garth circled around the table. “I’ll can the uniform, go Fed. See you at the brewery in forty.” He hurried away, and Sam looked over at his brother. 

Dean shrugged defensively. “He grows on you.” 

“I like Garth.” Alex patted Sam on the shoulder. “He’s actually pretty cool once you get to know him. Tall and awkward, yeah, but he’s a good guy. And trust me; ‘good’ isn’t a common trait in hunters.” She straightened up. “So, brewery it is, huh? Fun. How about we grab some lunch first? I’m hungry.” 

 

 **L** unch was a quiet, uneventful ordeal, and before she knew it Alex was following Sam and Dean up to the front door of the Thighslapper Ale brewery. Her hand went up to loosen her tie, hand running under her shirt to rub the back of her shoulder in the process. “Stop that,” Sam gently chastised, turning back to her, and Alex tilted her chin upwards as his large hands came up to tighten and straighten her tie. “Leave it like that. You look fine.” 

“It’s too tight,” Alex muttered childishly, but kept her hands at her side as they stopped beside the door. Garth walked over to them, a dark pin-striped suit jacket pulled over a light shirt, and she smiled up at him. 

A woman was there, and she opened the door. “Agents.” She nodded in acknowledgment. “I’m Marie. I’m the manager.” 

“Thanks for coming in on a Saturday.” 

“We want to help. Anything we can do.” Marie stepped back and let them in, leading them further into the large brewery. The place smelled of alcohol in different steps of fermentation, and the angel twitched her wings at the overwhelming sensation. 

“Oh. So this is all your dad’s, huh?” Dean looked around appreciatively.

“And his friend — Randy Baxter. They own the place together now.” Marie led them down a white hallway, away from the large brewery machines.

Alex picked up on her wording, and tipped her head. “ ‘Now?’ ” she repeated, an eyebrow raised. 

“Well, since Dale died.” 

They turned a corner and a man’s voice could clearly be heard booming. “Hold on, hold on, hold on. You think _I_ can just come in here late whenever I want?” They entered a lobby where an older man was standing in front of a teenager, face dark. 

“I’m sorry, sir,” the young man apologized, and Alex guessed he was only a few years younger than her. “It won’t happen again.” 

“The, um, ‘charming’ Randy Baxter,” Marie introduced quietly.

“Tell you what,” Randy continued. “Congratulations. You’re headed for the graveyard shift. Be one second late, and you’re fired.” 

“Yes, sir.” The young man pushed his janitorial cart away, head ducked in shame, and Alex watched him go, and eyebrow raised. 

“He’s actually a really nice guy,” Marie defended. “It’s just not easy being the axeman.” 

Dean voiced his agreement, and Garth took a step towards where Randy disappeared back into an office. “My comrade’s got you covered, so if you’ll excuse me . . .”

“Uh, yeah, I’ll go with you.” Sam followed after the lanky hunter, leaving Alex alone with Marie and Dean. 

Alex turned back to the manager, forcing a small smile. “So,” she decided, motioning to the room with a flick of her dark wings. “Why don’t you show us around?” 

 

 **A** lex was on the floor, back leaning against Dean’s leg, head resting against his thigh as she mindlessly scrolled through one of the databases she had begun to set up on line about all of the different things they hunted. The sun had long set, and Garth had invited them back to his motel to start looking in to what they could be dealing with. "There's a million things with claws that go bump in the night,” Dean finally grumbled. “Once you throw in ‘invisible’ the number goes down,” he added.

“Probably true,” Alex agreed, leaning her cheek further into his leg as she continued scrolling.

“Afternoon Delights?” Dean’s voice had Alex tilted her head upwards to see him holding the large motel card. “Really, Garth? Don’t you think this place is a little, uh —”

“Uh, you want a nice tub after a day in the office. It’s the little things.” Garth was seated at the bar, where he was doing his best to fix his EMF detector. “I feel sad for those brewery dudes. Spend your whole life beautifying the world through beer. First a partner offs himself. Then the two kids get ganked by unknown freekadeek.” 

Dean took a sip from Bobby’s flask, and Sam added, “According to this, Dale wasn’t just a partner. He was also the brewmaster.” 

“ ‘Brewmaster?’ ” Dean repeated with a scoff.

“He was widely considered a genius.”

“Alright, that’s it.” Dean got up, and Alex let out a noise of protest, watching as he passed Sam, who was sitting at the small wooden table on his own laptop. She moved so she was sitting on the couch, stretching her legs out across the cushions as Dean continued, “No microbrew is worth — what was it — eight _Food Magazine_ awards?” He set the flask down on the bar, and Garth jumped slightly as his EMF started going haywire. He placed two solid hits on the device to try and knock something back into place as Dean bent over and pulled four beers out of the mini fridge. “Beer is not food,” he insisted, setting a beer in front of Garth. “It’s . . . whatever water is.” 

“Do you mean a drink?” Alex quipped, and Dean grunted. He handed a beer to Sam, and then to Alex, and the angel accepted it without question, setting it on the floor beside her as she turned back to her laptop. 

“Hmm.” Her gaze flickered back to Dean as he frustratingly read the label on the beer. “Thighslapper.” With a half-hearted shrug he unscrewed the bottle cap and took a long drink. The angel watched in amusement as his gaze widened slightly. “Wow. That’s actually awesome.” With a shake of his head he added, “Dammit, I’m not even mad anymore.” 

Alex saw both Sam’s and Dean’s attention drawn to Garth, and she cocked her head as she saw the gangly hunter tip his head back, quickly chugging his entire beer. She watched, not really sure what to make of it, as he downed the entire thing in less than a minute before slamming the bottle back down on the bar with a satisfied thud. 

“Wow.” Dean looked halfway between impressed and in shock. “Party on, Garth.” 

“I don’t even usually drink beer,” the hunter explained. “It messes with my depth perception.” He belched loudly. “Especially when I skinny dip.” When both Winchesters exchanged looks he added, “You guys want to hear a joke?”

“Listen to this.” Sam turned back to his laptop, clearing his throat. “This is something interesting.” 

Garth laughed, and Sam looked over at Alex, who just shrugged. “Garth,” he started, “are you . . . drunk?” 

“Dude, I just . . . drank an entire beer. Of course I’m drunk!” He belched again.

Alex rolled her eyes, reaching down for her own beer. Her grace loosened the bottle cap and she flicked it off, bringing the glass rim to her lips. The liquid wasn’t as bitter as the cheap-ass beer they typically bought, instead being much sweeter, almost fruity. It certainly wasn’t bad, and she took another sip before setting it back down on the ground. Dean was talking, but she cut him off as an idea suddenly sprang to mind. “Hey, guys.” She folded up her laptop and set it on the couch, swinging her feet around until they rested firmly on the ground. “What if this is a shōjō?” 

“A what-now?” 

“Shōjō.” Alex leaned forward and picked up her beer, studying the glass bottle in her hands. “Japanese alcohol spirit. Uh, they’re also known as Onryō when they’re harnessed for vengeful intent. You have to be plastered to even see them. Uh, I remember reading about them at Bobby’s a long time ago. I don’t know, but we are dealing with a brewery . . .”

“No, no that actually makes a lot of sense,” Sam said in earnest, turning back to his computer. “Wow. Uh, yeah. It says that Dale actually left the company two weeks before he died. Or . . . maybe he got pushed out ‘cause he didn’t want to sell. I mean, Baxter said the deal’s been in the works for months.” 

“They’re selling the company?” 

“Yeah. To some multi-million distributor.” Sam cracked open his beer as he added, “Shōjō would work, actually. It’s definitely worth looking into.” 

The police scanner crackled to life, and Alex took a long sip of her beer during the conversation’s lull. “Unit to McAnn residence, 698 Washburn,” a voice relayed. 

Sam looked up. “ ‘McAnn Residence’ as Jim McAnn?”

“As in, let’s hope for their sake our espíritu ain’t made it out of the woods. Alright. Let’s go check it out.” Garth got up off of the barstool, and Alex jumped to her feet, hands going out to grab his shoulder as she pushed her grace into the hunter, searching out the alcohol and breaking it down in an attempt to make the hunter a little less hammered. He brushed her off, and Alex pulled away, his keys in her hands. 

She looked over at Dean with a sly grin, holding them up as the still-drunk hunter moved towards the doors, and Dean rolled his eyes, a stupid grin across his face. “Uh, why doesn’t Dean go with Garth,” Sam said, cutting the moment short. “I’m gonna visit the widow. Alex, you should get a head start on this Shōjō.”

The angel’s wings drooped in disappointment, but she nodded all the same; it was her idea, she should do the research. “Yes, Sam.” 

She sat back down on the couch as Dean left, and Sam shut his laptop. She watched as he moved around the room before sitting down on the couch next to her. “Listen, if you don’t want —”

“Seriously, Sam. It’s fine. I came up with it, I’ll look into it.” Alex leaned her head back to look up into the hunter’s face. “Go.” She watched as the hunter grabbed his jacket and left the motel room, locking the door behind her, and Alex turned back to her laptop. 

It wasn’t hard to find an article on shōjōs, and the young angel took a long sip of her beer, surprised to find herself enjoying the taste. Wings fluttered, and then came the words, “Good. I was waiting for those numbskulls to leave.” 

“Gabriel.” Alex closed her laptop in exasperation. “What do you want?” 

“You don’t sound pleased that I’m here.”

“Yeah, Gabe, I wonder why.” Alex stood up to see the golden-winged archangel leaning against the bar. “Why are you here?” 

“Just checking in on my favorite angel.” Gabriel strolled forward, and Alex held her ground, wings uncurling and stretching outwards in anger. The archangel paused, hands going up in mock surrender. “Alright, half-pint. Cool your wings. I’m not here to fight.”

Alex crossed her arms, only letting her wings fall slightly. “I told you I didn’t want to see you again,” she growled, feathers ruffling angrily.

The archangel brushed her comment off with a small scoff. “Yeah, well, you didn’t mean it.” 

“Yeah, actually, I kind of did.” Alex watched as the archangel wandered around the motel room. “Listen. Now that you’re here, why don’t you be useful? Do you know anything about shōjōs or not?”

“Uh, nope.” Gabriel paused beside the large hot tub, and Alex watched as he raised an eyebrow. 

Her wings flared upwards in annoyance. “Then why are you here? I mean, seriously. Why?”

“I told you.” The archangel turned back to look at her, and three steps brought him to the edge of her personal space. “I’m just checking in. How have you been?”

“Fine.” Alex picked up her beer and took a long sip before stalking past the angel. Their feathers brushed, and both instinctively drew their wings in closer. “I’m fine. Lucifer’s back in my dreams, Castiel showed back up with amnesia, which ended in a bit of a shit-storm, but we’re good. He’s in a coma, Bobby’s still dead. What about you?” Her voice was sharp with frustration.

Gabriel didn’t notice, or if he did, he didn’t acknowledge it. He just shrugged, and didn’t respond. “How are things upstairs?” he asked instead. “How are they dealing after Raphy got the boot?” 

“Turmoil, from what I hear. Remiel tried taking over, but that didn’t go over very well — surprise, right?” Alex watched the archangel’s wings flick in agreement as she continued. “Well, apparently some of them expected, uh, me to take over, which it totally ridiculous, you know? Hey. Maybe . . . maybe you should go back to heaven,” she finally suggested. “They sound like they need a strong leader.” 

Gabriel immediately scoffed. “They don’t need me. And honestly, I’m not the big on conflict.” He wandered closer and sat down at the bar, and Alex took another long sip from her beer, finishing it off and sliding the bottle away. “No, heaven isn’t the place for us. Not since the boss left.” 

 

 **T** he motel door opened, and Alex looked up from the bar to see Sam Winchester lean inside. “Come on,” he said, motioning her forwards. “Dale had a bottle of saké sent to the brewery. Wouldn’t let the wife touch it.”

“Saké’s Japanese,” Alex agreed, grabbing her phone off of the table and stuffing it in her pocket as she followed Sam back out the door. “So if this thing’s a shōjō that’s probably what it came in.” 

“Yeah, that’s what we’re thinking.” Sam and Alex got into the Pacer and Sam started the car. “Dean and Garth are going to meet us at the brewery.” 

“Okay, sounds good. What else did the widow say?” Alex watched as a silver van sped past them before Sam pulled the car out onto the main road. 

“Not much. Dale apparently travelled to a lot of exotic places to find the best ingredients for his brew. That’s probably where he picked up the shōjō.” The Winchester looked over at her. “Speaking of, find anything on them? It’d be nice to know whether or not we’re actually dealing with one.” 

“Uh, yeah. I was kind of busy with . . . other things. But if this thing came in that saké, I should be able to tell,” the angel promised. “Hopefully, at least. I don’t know. I have a feeling we’re right though. EMF and claws? What else could it be?”

 

 **A** lex followed Sam and Dean down the long hallway and into Randy Baxter’s dark office. The young angel’s eyes adjusted well, and she looked around. “Here it is.” Sam slipped past her and around the large desk to pull an old, wooden box off of the shelf. He set it down, and Alex pulled off the lid, leaving Sam to remove the ceramic jar. 

Alex brushed her fingers over the Japanese characters scrawled in black ink, nodding as the words translated in her mind. “Yeah,” she confirmed, “we’ve got a shōjō on our hands here.” 

“Looks like someone’s been sampling the goods.” Sam turned the jar so both Alex and Dean could see that the wax seal had been broken. 

Alex nodded, eyes flitting up to the far corner of the room. “Wonder if big brother was watching.” She pointed to the mounted security camera, wiggling her fingers in a small greeting. 

“God, I love paranoid people.” Dean circled around the desk to stand by his brother. He motioned towards the computer beside his brother. “See if you can get on.”

Sam put down the jar and sat down in the office chair, and it wasn’t long before the security feeds popped up. “Huh.” They appeared on the computer screen, and she watched as Dean waved at the camera. The angel’s grace twitched, unnerved by her appearance without her wings. Did she really look that scrawny?

“Alright, so, uh, first death was four days ago? Yeah?” 

“Mm-hmm, and, uh, Trevor McAnn. Patient zero.” Dean leaned over Sam’s shoulder as the hunter scrolled backwards through the footage until they found what they were looking for. A young teen, no more than sixteen years old, was in the office. As they watched, he opened the ceramic jar and took a long drink. Then he walked away. 

“There’s nothing there.” Sam paused the footage, disappointed and confused. 

“Shōjō, remember?” Alex put the ceramic jar back into its wooden box. “Can’t see them unless you’re inebriated.” 

“Alright.” Dean turned around and grabbed one of the bottles of whiskey that lined the shelf. “Bottom’s up.” He placed it in front of his brother before grabbing three glasses. 

“Are you kidding me?”

“Tick tock.” Dean crossed the room to pick up a glass bottle filled with a clear liquid, and Alex curled her nose as he opened it, able to scent the strong concentration of alcohol even from there. 

Sam shook his head as he watched. “I mean, can you even get drunk anymore? It’s kind of like, uh, drinking a vitamin for you, right?” 

“Shut up.” Dean sniffed the bottle and recoiled. “Holy hell.” He returned to the desk and poured a glass for Alex. “Here.” 

The angel accepted it, but her tongue curled at the first sip. She coughed, feathers fluttering as Dean thumped her on the back. “God,” she gasped out. “That’s really strong.”

Dean hummed in agreement. “That’s the point.” He held out his glass, and Sam returned the gesture, glasses clinking together. He downed his drink before looking over at Alex, who was just staring into her glass. “Come on, Feathers. Drink up.” 

Alex stared down at her glass and took another sip before explaining, “Listen, I’m pretty sure it’s gonna take a lot more than this to get me drunk. Like, a lot more.”

“How much?” 

“Well . . .” The angel paused, thinking. “If Cas’ tolerance is anything to go by, I’d say the whole brewery.” She raised an eyebrow as the two brother’s exchanged looks. “Trust me. I tried getting drunk after Bobby died. And I couldn’t. Just . . . keep drinking. See if you can get eyes on this thing.”

Dean poured himself a second and then a third glass, swallowing it all down. “Alright,” he finally said, letting the glass drop back onto the desk. “Party time. Rewind and go.” 

Sam did as he brother said, and they re-watched the footage. Alex saw nothing different, but the sudden intake of breath from the Winchesters told a different story. “What?” she pressed, leaning forward. “do you see it?” 

Sam nodded. “So he — he let that thing out of the box, and it must have followed him to the place with all those thingies.” 

Alex grinned in amusement, but Dean only nodded. “Yes. Yes,” he agreed. “That’s smart.” Alex laughed, and Dean looked down at his glass. “I think I’m actually a little drunk. What is this?” He picked up the bottle and poured himself another glass. “Me likey.” He took a sip.

“What the hell?” A loud, booming voice had the Winchester spitting out his drink in surprise. Alex jumped to her feet, wings flaring out at the sight of Randy Baxter. 

She heard Dean mutter a curse under his breath and then tell Sam, “Turn it off, turn it off.” 

“FBI, huh?”Baxter pulled out his phone. “You know what? You can save it for the cops.” He pushed a button, and Alex stepped forward, grace flickering out, ready to intervene. 

Sam got to his feet as well, hands going out. “Whoa whoa, Mr. Baxter, listen. If — if you just let us explain, you might not —”

Suddenly Baxter let out a strangled cry as he spasmed, and Alex watched curiously as he collapsed to the ground, revealing Garth standing behind him, taser in hand. The angel couldn’t decide if she was amused or if she was exasperated. “You _tasered_ him? Dude.” 

Garth shrugged. “You got a better way to silence him?” 

Alex rolled her eyes. “It’s a shōjō,” she confirmed, moving on to more relevant subjects. “We should really figure out how to kill one.” She looked down at the unconscious man at her feet. “Um, what are we going to with . . . you know?”

“I’ll take care of him,” Garth promised. “Why don’t you folks hit up the local grocery store and get us some grub, huh?” The lanky hunter stepped out of the way, motioning for them to leave. 

Alex shrugged, leading the way out. “I guess I could drive us to the store,” she suggested, holding out her hands. “I’m guessing you guys are going to want some coffee anyways.” When Dean dropped the keys into her hands, she led the way out to the car. 

 

 **A** lex pushed open the motel door, leaving the Winchesters to follow close behind. Each held a coffee in their hands, and Alex dropped the food they had picked out at the local Gas ’n Sip onto the couch. “Garth?” she called, looking around the motel. She spotted the hunter out on the patio, and she tipped her head in amusement.

The hunter entered the room, and Sam asked, “Garth. Where’s Baxter?”

Garth pointed to the hot tub, and Alex stepped forward to see the CEO blindfolded and handcuffed in the tub. “Dude’s a lot heavier than he looks.” He moved closer to them. “But here. Thought you might want this back.” He handed Dean back his EMF, and the Winchester pocketed it with disgruntled noise. 

“You have the CEO of the douchiest microbrew in the US gagged in your bathtub?” he asked dryly. “You really think that’s gonna end well?” 

“Yeah, I’m not feeling the love.” 

Alex rolled her eyes and walked over to the bar. “Okay, yeah. Shōjō. Let’s get on this, okay?” Sam sat down at the table and pulled out his laptop, and Alex retrieved a beer from the mini fridge. “What?” she asked when Dean cast her a glance. “I’m thirsty, okay?” When Dean turned away she added, “You know what? Bite me, Winchester.” She flicked off the cap and took a swig. 

“Okay.” Sam’s voice had her looking up a few minutes later. “So, a shōjō is said to roam where there’s lots of alcohol. There’s lore saying that, back in the old day, if you were plastered enough, you could see one sulking around the breweries of Japan.” Garth wandered over to the hunter, watching him over his shoulder. 

“Which lines up with what Alex said,” Dean agreed, joining Alex at the bar as he refilled his old flask. “Anything about why they’re offing the brewers’ kids?” 

“Well, apparently you can harness the will of a shōjō with the right spell box.” Alex grunted in agreement with that statement, and Sam continued, “Then you basically have an attack dog that you can sic on whatever sort of personal revenge mission you want.” 

“Which lines up both with what I said and what’s going on,” Alex agreed. “Okay, more importantly, how do we kill it?” She watched as Garth moved to sit across from her at the bar, and his eyes fell upon the flask Dean was holding for only a second before he turned back to Sam. 

“Well, it is killable but . . . only with a samurai sword consecrated with a Shinto blessing.” 

“Well shit.” Alex took another long sip of her beer. “Where are we going to find one of those?” 

“There’s a Japanese restaurant a few blocks away,” Dean suggested. Alex scoffed, rolling her eyes, and he defended, “Look, you got a better idea? No? Okay. The shōjō’s already cleaned house, right? I mean, Marie’s the last target standing, so . . . I’ll hit up the pawn shops and, uh, look for the sword, you two babysit Marie.”

 _Manager Marie?_ Alex shrugged, not going to argue. “Sure,” she agreed. “Sounds like a good idea. Sam?” She started to move, but suddenly Garth keened forward, something falling from his hands. 

The unmistakable cry of an EMF detector reached Alex’s ears, and the hunter straightened back up. “Yikes. Sorry.” He didn’t seem apologetic in the slightest, and Alex narrowed her eyes in confusion as Dean reached over the bar and yanked the device out of Garth’s hands. 

“Don’t worry about it,” the oldest Winchester grumbled as he roughly turned it off. 

“Unless I’ve got nothing to be sorry _for_.”

“Garth.” 

“What?” Alex looked between the two hunter. “Dean? What’s he talking about?” She looked over at Sam, but he just shrugged.

“I’m concerned that Bobby may be haunting you,” Garth stated bluntly. “I-I brought it up with Dean, but he shot me down.” 

“Garth!” Dean snapped, voice deepening in anger. “Leave it alone.” He reached to pull on his jacket, ready to leave.

“It’s okay —”

“No, it’s far from okay,” Dean retorted, glaring at his brother.

Sam shook his head. “I’ve already tried contacting Bobby,” he admitted, and Alex looked up to see Dean’s face flash blank with shock. “When that beer disappeared, I pulled out a talking board.”

“Without me?”

Sam hesitated. “You know, I figured why drag you in . . . when it’s something I could put to bed myself.”

“And?”

“And if he was there, I would have told you.” Sam closed his laptop, and Alex reached out with her grace, pushing it against the flask. She felt nothing — not that she had been expecting to.

She heard Baxter groan from the hot tub, and Dean shook his head. “We’ll talk about this later,” he finally said. “You follow Marie.” He shoved the flask in his jacket pocket and circled around the bar, hand outstretched. “Let me borrow your keys.”

Sam complied, and the moment Dean stormed out of the room he stood. “Pip. Let’s go.” He moved towards the door and Alex hurried to follow, tipping back the last of her beer before setting the bottle down on the counter and following him out. 

The air was warm and tinged with the acrid smoke of a bonfire, a scent that had the angel’s wings twitching at how closely it resembled the smell of the archangel whose grace resided within her. “You . . . you really don’t think Bobby’s there?” she finally asked, shaking off her previous thought with a flick of her wings.

“I don’t know,” the Winchester reluctantly admitted. “Have you —”

“I don’t know. I still haven’t been able to figure out EMF and ghosts stuff. I just . . . why? Why would Bobby stick around? And as much as I want it to be him . . . it never is what we want, is it? We’ve never gotten a break. Why would that change now?”

 

 **A** lex watched Sam ordered another glass of whiskey, sighing as he swirled her own glass. They had been at this bar for nearly two hours, and she raised her head to look at the mirror behind the bar. Marie was at a far table, laughing and drinking with friends, and the young angel sighed again, taking a long sip of — well, she didn’t know what she was drinking, but it was strong. 

“You really think a shōjō would attack in here?” she finally asked, turning on her bar stool to look at the Winchester. “I mean, I’m willing to bet seventy percent of the people here would be able to see it.” 

Sam shrugged. “I don’t know. I mean, do you think it would really care? It’s just following orders.” He sipped his whiskey and shrugged again.

“Well, come time you won’t have any problem seeing what we’re up against,” she half-teased, downing the rest of her drink and waving the bartender down for a refill. She watched as the clear liquor swirled around the sides before adding sourly, “I still won’t. There’s got to be someway for me to see it. Maybe . . . I’ll be able to feel it. I don’t know.” She sighed, turning around so she could lean against the bar and look out over the crowd. “This is kind of nice,” she admitted, swinging back around and looking up at her friend. “Case aside, when’s the last time you and I’ve actually gone out for a drink without Dean?”

The Winchester’s head tipped back, and Alex could see the wheels turning, their progress slightly dampened by the alcohol coursing through his blood. “Not sure,” he finally admitted. “I mean . . . two Christmases ago . . .”

He trailed off, and Alex shook her head. “Pretty sure that was Balthazar’s universe,” she teased, knowing _exactly_ what night he was talking about. “Remember?” 

“Oh. _Oh_.” The Winchester’s eyes widened slightly, and he nodded, a blush darkening his already rosy face. “Uh, yeah. Sorry.” 

Alex shrugged, not really caring. “How long do you think we have to stay here?” she asked instead. “Hopefully not all night.” She swirled her drink before bringing the glass up to her lips. “I think I’m actually getting a headache.” 

Sam was about to answer, but his phone rang. “Dean,” he explained as he answered it. “Yeah?” Whatever Dean said had him looking down at his drink. “Uh . . .” Then he blinked in surprise. “What?” He hung up and shoved his phone in his pocket, waving for the bartender to close their tab. 

“What’s going on?” Alex set down her glass and got up as well, confusion darkening her gaze. 

“It’s at the brewery.” Sam led the way out of the bar and hurried down the street to where a couple was getting into a taxi. “Wait!” he yelled, reaching into his pocket. “Wait, wait, wait! Taxi! Hey!” He pulled out his fake ID and Alex moved after him, searching for her own. “Hey hey hey!” the Winchester continued. “Stop! Hold on, hold on! National Security.” He held it up to the young couple. “Please!” When the woman stepped back he nodded. “Thank you, ma’am. Sorry. Thanks guys” He got in, and Alex followed, shutting the door behind her. Sam leaned forward. “Okay. Brewery. Step on it!”

“What?” The taxi rolled forward, and Alex tipped her head to look into the rear view mirror to confirm her suspicions that their driver was, in fact, an older, frail gentleman. 

“The brewery!” Sam repeated. “Hurry, hurry! Hurry. Please?” 

“Yeah,” their driver croaked, “but I like to drive safe, you know.” He guided the taxi down the street, and Sam fell back into his seat in disbelief. 

“What did Dean say?” Alex pressed, turning to look at him.

“Uh, not much. The shōjō’s at the brewery; there’s another kid, I think. I don’t know who or anything. Garth’s there, too.” He leaned forward. “Can you _please_ drive faster? This is an emergency.” 

“We’ll get there, don’t you worry.” The taxi driver turned the car down the street, and the slowly picked up speed. 

 

 **A** lex followed Sam out of the taxi, sprinting past him to the front door. With a push of her grace it unlocked and swung open, and she and Sam hurried down the hallway. “Where are they?” Sam asked her, and Alex closed her eyes, pushing her grace out, winding it down the halls. 

“This way.” She took off to her left, the Winchester close on her heels. “There’s a guy this way. I . . . I don’t know who he is.” They turned down another hallway, and slowly Sam outpaced her. 

He turned the corner and Alex heard him slid to a stop. “Whoa!” he exclaimed, and Alex reached out to feel the man she had been tracking right beside him. “Whoa. Easy!” 

“We got to get out of here, man,” the person panted, and Alex turned the corner to see it was the janitor from earlier that morning. “It’s here.” He tried to push past Sam, but the Winchester held on. 

“Where’s Garth?” Alex demanded, looking around. 

“Who?!”

“Garth!” Sam repeated. 

“I-I — there was this guy — he got knocked out!”

“Oh. Oh, okay.” Sam’s gaze slid past the man, and he moved in front of him, arms going out defensively. “Stay behind me. Alex? Can you see it? There!” 

“It’s here?” Alex shook her head, seeing nothing with her own eyes. She pushed out her grace, however, and felt it spark. “Wait, wait. I feel it.”

“Stay behind me,” Sam repeated, slowly inching them down the hall. 

“Okay, okay.” The teen didn’t seem to have any problem with that. “What, you can — you can see it?” 

“Yeah I’m — I’m skunked,” Sam admitted, shifting backwards as the shōjō approached. He looked to his right. “Fire exit,” he decided. “On three.” 

“Okay.” The teen agreed, and Alex turned her head to see the door lying open only a few yards away. 

“Alright?” Sam was just about to utter the countdown when the door slammed shut, the banging metal echoing through the empty brewery. “Okay. So much for that.”

Alex shoved her grace at where the creature should be, and she felt its dark energy protest. It tingled unpleasantly, but she kept her grace against it, not letting it get out of sight. “Sam?” she demanded, “What’s it doing?” 

“It’s getting closer, alright?” 

Suddenly the energy surged forward, and Sam was in the air. His back hit the wall with a loud thud, cracking the drywall behind him, and he fell to the ground, dazed. Alex immediately lunged forward, angel blade slipping into her hands as she did so, but without a visual on the shōjō, it easily evaded her swings. 

The teenager let out a startled cry, and Alex spun around in alarm, wings raised, only to let them fall away as she saw Dean Winchester standing there, a samurai sword in his hand. “About time,” she snapped, grace flicking out to find the shōjō again. “Will that work?” 

“Should, yeah.” Dean pushed the young man behind him. “Get back,” he snapped, randomly swinging his sword in front of him. 

“Can you see it?” 

Alex’s question remained unanswered as Dean was suddenly knocked backwards by an unseen force. He hit the concrete ground, and the sword skidded across the floor, stopping far out of reach. The young angel snapped her grace out, anger and adrenaline fueling it as she located the spirit, and then Dean was back beside her, sword in his hands. “How?” she breathed, confused because she hadn’t sensed him get up to retrieve it. 

Dean blindly swung the sword again. “Where is it?” he asked, and Alex shrugged. 

“Uh, s-swing right!” Sam answered, cradling his head in his hands, and Alex jumped back as the hunter beside her brought the sword down in a sweeping right arc. “ _My_ right,” Sam corrected, and Dean repeated his actions, this time to the left. “Three o’clock, Dean!” The Winchester slashed again, and Alex spun around as the shōjō appeared on her radar. “Six o’clock!” came Sam’s command, and Dean spun around, sword going out in a straight jab. 

He let go of the handle, and the samurai sword stayed where it was, hanging in the air. Then a female-like creature materialized, dressed in a ragged, white gown, with pasty white skin, and black hair and eyes. She stared down at the weapon in her stomach, and a low, rumbling growl rang through her chest as she raised her head. The skin around her eyes faded to black as she hissed at them, and then she let out a snarl, falling backwards and disappearing in smoke as she hit the ground.

The sword clattered to the ground, and Alex let out a breath, steadying her trembling wings. Dean picked up the sword and turned to the teenage boy. “You okay?” he asked. 

“I’m alive, yeah.” 

“Sam?” 

The younger Winchester offered a shaky thumbs up from where he sat on the ground. “Yeah.”

Dean looked around, gaze resting on Alex before he asked. “Where’s Garth?” 

The angel shrugged, honestly having no idea, and she turned to look at the teenage janitor. “Well, he’s — he’s over that way,” the young man explained, pointing off behind them. 

Dean motioned off in that direction, exasperated. “Would — would you go get him?” 

“Yeah.” The man hurried off, and Alex watched Sam pull himself to his feet and move off after him. She turned back to Dean, blinking in surprise to see that he was staring at her. 

“Did you . . . did you move the sword?” 

“What?” 

“The sword, dammit.” Dean flourished the blade to emphasis his point. “I mean, one minute it was over there,” he pointed across the room, “and the next thing I know it was sliding across the floor into my hands. Did you, you know, mojo it back?” 

Alex shook her head, confusion furrowing her small brow. “No,” she admitted. “I — no, I didn’t.”

Dean’s gaze darkened. “Don’t lie to me,” he threatened, and Alex straightened her back, offended that he would even suggest something like that. “I —” Dean cut off. “This moved.” He turned away, looking behind them. “Bobby?” he dared to asked. “Are you here?” No response. “Come on, do _something_.”

Alex waited with bated breath, but nothing happened. “Dean,” she finally sighed, “I don’t —”

“You don’t _what?”_

“I don’t . . . I don’t know, Dean. I just don’t know. This whole thing —” Her grace pushed out, and she felt Sam just out of sight. “I think we should go catch an hour’s sleep while we can, okay? It’s been a long, long night.” 

 

 **“Y** ou guys sure you don’t want to hang out? Grab some brunch, maybe some brews?” Garth opened the front door of his sedan and tossed his bag inside. Alex leaned against the Pacer beside them, wings spreading wide as the sun peeked out from behind the clouds. It was the next day, but Alex hadn’t been able to grab a wink of sleep. 

Dean stood next to her, head shaking as he turned down the hunter’s offer. “Tempting, but, uh, we better roll.”

Garth turned back to them, nodding in understanding. “Alright, well . . .” He walked forward and pulled Dean into a hug, which the older hunter slowly reciprocated, awkwardly reaching up to pat Garth on the back until he stepped away. “Call me anytime.”

“Alright.”

“And you, Sam.” Garth held out his hand, and Sam shook it before Garth said, “Aw, come here.” He tightly wrapped his arms around the tall Winchester, who’s eyes widened slightly at the sudden display of affection. 

“Uh, yeah,” he said when Garth pulled away. “Thanks, Garth.”

Alex stepped forward to receive her hug, patting the hunter on the back as she said, “Call if you need anything, okay?”

“Will do.” Garth stepped back and circled around to the driver’s side of his car. “Sayonara, kemosabes!” He opened the door before pointing to their Pacer. “Nice ride.” With that he got in, and Alex watched as the old sedan rolled away. 

“You’re right,” Sam finally said. “He has grown on me .” He turned to look at Dean. “Alright, um . . . let’s talk about this.” 

“About what?” Dean asked. “Oh, the, uh, talking board? That’s fine. I get it, I guess.” Dean stuck his hands in his pockets, shrugging. 

“No, not that. Look. I heard you.” 

“Heard me what?” 

Sam’s gaze flickered down to Alex for the briefest second before he asked, “What happened in the brewery, Dean?” 

Dean hesitated, shaking his head. “Nothing. It was, uh . . . my imagination.” Dean led the way back into the motel room, and Sam and Alex followed. 

“Dean,” Sam insisted as he walked through the door, “look, I know something happened. I just want you to be straight with me.”

Dean turned to look at his brother. “The blade was across the room,” he finally said, “and then it was in my hands. And then my beer drank itself. Oh, and then that page magically appeared on the bed. And — and then Bobby’s book fell down and out popped the number of the guy who found Cas.” Sarcasm lined his voice as he added, “ Nothing, I’m sure.” He turned to his things that were laying on the couch.

“Clearly,” Sam muttered, turning to collect his laptop. 

“Well then what, Sam?” Dean snapped, turning back around. “Is Bobby here or not?”

“You know what I think, Dean? I think that regular people, they see ones they lost everywhere too.”

“Yeah, fucking ghosts!”

“Or maybe they just miss them a lot,” Sam retaliated. “I mean, they see a face in the crowd, we see a book falling off a table. Same thing, Dean. I did the talking board, I ran plenty of EMF, and Alex hasn’t felt anything. When the beer went poof — I went a little nuts.”

“Yeah, why didn’t you tell me?”

“Like I said, I was a little nuts at the time.”

“All right, well, if it wasn’t Bobby, then what Jedi’d that sword into my hand?”

“The shōjō slammed the door from across the room. Maybe it was trying to grab the sword too. Or, I don’t know, maybe Alex did something.” 

“I’m right here,” the angel put in crossly, “and I didn't do anything! Hell, I thought _Dean_ had gotten up to grab it.” She sat down at the bar, shoving the last of her things into her bag. “I don’t know. Might have been Bobby. Might have been the shōjō. I honestly don’t know.”

Sam shrugged over at his brother, and Dean cleared his throat. “Right. Right, I mean if it was Bobby, he would let us know. I mean, who knows more about being a ghost than Bobby? Instant Swayze, right?” 

“Exactly.”

“Okay. Okay, you — so your theory is that — that we’re practically regular people about something for once.” Dean zipped up his duffle bag and put it over his shoulder. “Alright. Well, you want to grab some brunch and a brew?” 

“Ugh, no.” Sam picked up his bag, wincing at the idea. “I’m so hungover. Let’s just hit the road.” 

“I might be able to help,” Alex suggested, following Sam out to the car. “Want me to see what I can do?” 

She watched as the Winchester shook his head. “Uh, yeah. No. Last time you tried going into my head I felt like I had been shot. I think I’ll just ride this one out.” He threw his bag in the trunk and Alex did the same, climbing into the back seat. 

Dean was halfway in the car before he quickly got back out. “Hang on,” he told them, hurrying back into the motel, and Alex watched him go with a shrug. He was back thirty seconds later. “Almost forgot this.” He put Bobby’s flask into his jacket pocket, and Alex settled back into her seat as they drove away.


	40. What Lies Beneath

**July 15, 2012**

**Duluth, Minnesota**

**A** lex tore down the darkened street, tennis shoes slipping in the puddle-ridden roads. Something flashed in the corner of her eye, and she slid to a stop, breath bated and shoulders dropping low as she prowled closer. She paused by the alley, slowly counting to three before she leapt forward to confront what lay beyond. 

Nothing. 

Alex’s shoulders fell in confusion and frustration, eyes scanning the darkened dead end that lay in front of her. She knew she had sensed something out here, something dark and inhuman, lurking in the streets. But it was gone. Where had it gone? A low growl rumbled through her chest at the thought of losing the trail. She had been so close. 

She and the Winchesters had come up here to Duluth after catching wind of a case of weird. So far two people had gone missing for a day, only to be found . . . different. The first had been a kind, quiet, and strictly religious woman who, after going missing, came back and brutally murdered her entire family. It was that that had brought them up here, and that’s when they had discovered the second case. A woman had . . . apparently became a man overnight. Alex was baffled as to what it was, but then again, she supposed that was why they were here. 

She continued down the street, shoving her hands in her pockets to hide her frustration at losing what she had been hunting. With a sigh, she turned back onto the main street and walked back towards the motel where she and the Winchesters were staying. 

The sky was still dark as she darted across the street, but she recognized the black side of the Mercedes-Benz parked at the end of a row of cars. Gravel skittered beneath her feet as she crossed the parking lot, and with a flick of her hand the door flew open and she stomped inside. 

Both Winchesters looked up in surprise, faces blank with shock, and Alex stopped in her tracks. “What?” she snapped, crossing the room to dig through her bag of things. 

“W-Where the hell have you been?” Dean finally asked, crossing his arms. “We’ve been calling you for _hours_.”

“Sorry. Must have left my phone in my bag.” Alex dug it out, shaking it for confirmation. “See?” She glanced behind her to see that both Winchesters wore a displeased smile, and she was quick to mimic it. “What?” she added, tossing her phone back onto her stuff and wiping her hands on her black shirt. “I’m fine. I felt something out there, thought maybe I could hunt it down, but I didn’t find it.” 

“Yeah, except you’ve been gone all night,” Dean snapped. “We were getting worried, dammit. You should have called us.” 

“All night?” Alex repeated, scoffing in disbelief. “I was gone for like an _hour_ , Dean.”

“An hour?” Sam stood up in confusion, a hand coming up to run through his hair. “Pip, it’s almost five in the morning.” 

“What?” That stopped Alex in her tracks. “That’s . . . that’s not possible.” She let out a small laugh. “I left at nine. It’s felt like forty minutes. How the hell could I have been gone for _eight hours?”_ Her face darkened as she realized, “Eight hours and I didn’t even catch that son of a bitch. I _had_ him too.” Her eyes flashed with anger. “I was this close —”

Suddenly both Winchesters drew their guns, and Alex jumped backwards, hands going up in defense. “Whoa,” she warned. “Whoa whoa whoa. What’s that for?” In Dean’s hand was the demon-killing knife, and her knees bumped up against the bed. “Hey. Mind putting that down?” 

“What the fuck did you do with Alex?” 

“W-What? I’m right here —” Alex turned her head to look at the mirror hanging on the wall and a small squeak fell from her mouth at the sight of her eyes, as black as her shirt. “Oh my God.” She flinched at her own curse before turning back to the Winchesters, backpedalling hastily. “I can explain,” she insisted when the Winchesters stepped forward. When they paused, she added, “Okay, okay, I can’t. I can’t. I . . . I swear it’s me, guys. I’m Alex.” 

Sam looked over at his brother. “How the hell can a demon possess an angel?” he hissed. “I thought they couldn’t do that.” 

“A-Angel?” That statement had Alex looking around in confusion, head tipped. “I-I — there’s no angels here. No. I — I’m a . . . demon.” That idea seemed to be correct, and she nodded, going with that. “I . . . I don’t know what’s going on. It’s all . . . fuzzy.”

“I’m going to go get the duct tape,” Sam finally got out, disappearing outside. Dean shifted, moving in front of the door, knife still aimed directly at her. 

Alex raised her hands, flicking her fingers, and the door swung closed behind the hunter. “I don’t know what’s going on,” she promised, “but I’m not going to hurt you, Dean.” 

“Yeah, well the only reason I haven’t slit your fucking throat is because Alex is my friend,” Dean retorted, voice growing sharp and low. “Now stay there and don’t smoke out, cause we need to have a little chat.” He shifted to one side as Sam returned, and Alex watched as the hunter quickly laid down a small devil’s trap on the carpet. When he was finished Dean motioned to it. “Alright, get in.” 

Alex’s eyes narrowed in hurt. “Dean, I told you. It’s me.” 

“Then this won’t be a problem, right? Now get the fuck in.” The hunter’s voice deepened even further in anger, and Alex let out a sharp breath through her nose, enjoying the look that flashed across the Winchester’s faces when the lights flickered. However, she complied, strolling into the trap and huffing when she felt a heavy pressure pushing down on her from all sides, and she suddenly felt lightheaded. 

“Now step out,” Sam commanded, and Alex stared up at the hunter in disbelief. His face was set in a tight line, unmoving. With another sigh, Alex stepped forward, unsurprised to find herself impeded by what felt like a brick wall. She didn’t miss how the younger Winchester’s eyes widened. “You’re a demon.”

“Yeah. I feel like we’ve covered that — ow!” Alex hissed as acid burned at her skin, and she flinched away, covering her face with her jacket. She glared over at Dean to see the flask of holy water in his hands. “Was that _really_ necessary, Winchester?”

Dean screwed the cap back on and tossed the flask onto his table. “What the hell do you want? I thought Crowley told you to back off!”

The demon opened her mouth to snap, but her words failed in her mouth as she realized she didn’t know what to say, leaving her to fall back on a stuttered explanation. “I . . . I’m Alex, Dean. I-I’ve hunted with you guys for years, I’ve . . .” She shook her head, trying to think back, but all of her memories were surrounded by a thick fog. “I don’t — why is everything so hazy?” She looked up at the Winchesters in confusion, but her voice grew stronger. “I don’t understand. I’m not possessed — it’s just me in here. I don’t know why I’m a demon, or how I’m a demon, but I am a demon, and I’m starting to get the feeling that this isn’t normal.”

“Yeah. Understatement of the year. Alright, you know what? We’re calling Crowley.” Dean tossed his gun onto the desk.

Alex pointed to her phone. “I have his number,” she insisted, waving her fingers as she tried to will her cell into her hands; however, the overwhelming pressure of the trap held her still, and she cursed it under her breath. “Just . . . give me my phone.” When Dean Winchester tossed it to her, she dialed Crowley’s number and brought the phone up to her ear. 

It rang twice before the King of Hell answered. “This better be important, kitten,” he drawled. “I’m in the middle of something.” 

“Yeah. We have a . . . a problem.” Alex let out a small noise of indignation as Dean snatched it out of her grasp, and she crossed her arms.

“Crowley? Get your ass up here and get your demon out of Alex,” the Winchester demanded, and Alex felt the dark presence of the demon before she saw him. 

“Well well well.” Crowley snapped his phone shut and circled around to stand between Alex and Dean. “I certainly wasn’t expecting _that_. Hello, kitten.” 

“Crowley.” Alex acknowledged the demon with a curt dip of her head. Something dark roiled within her at the sight of him, and she crossed her arms. 

“Missing something, I see. Must say you look better without that supernal sense of holiness.” 

“I . . . I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Alex looked back at her shoulders, not surprised in the least to see nothing. “I’m not an angel, guys. I feel like I’d remember if I were.”

The demon’s eyebrow quirked at her last statement. “No, you’re clearly not an angel,” he agreed. “You’re a demon, no questions asked.” Crowley sauntered forward, stopping with his toes against the edge of the tape. “And that soul is definitely the one that belongs in that body. Question is how?” He raised his eyebrows in emphasis with his words, and Alex’s frown deepened. 

Dean stepped forward. “So you’re saying that’s actually Alex.” 

“Well, it’s certainly not one of mine. ”

“Yeah. I’ve been saying that all along.” Alex crossed her arms. “Can . . . can you let me out so we can figure out what the hell is going on?” Sam knelt down and peeled back a piece of tape, and Alex immediately felt the pressure subside. “Thank you.” She stepped out, shoulders rolling backwards to release their tension, and she felt Crowley disappear. “So let me get this straight. I’m a demon, and I’m like ninety percent sure I’ve always been one, but you’re saying that’s not normal, and on top of all that, everything that’s ever happened before I walked through that door is a little hazy.”

“I need a drink.” Dean walked over to the fridge, and Alex ran a hand through her hair. “I . . . you . . .”

“Yeah, I don’t know,” Alex agreed. She sat down on the bed. “I . . . at least I remember everything that’s happened, I think. At least the big stuff. Maybe this is an angel thing?”

“Like what Balthazar did,” Sam agreed. “Yeah, it’s possible.” He returned to the table he had been sitting at when Alex entered. “I don’t know.”

“Yeah. I’m going to take a shower.” Alex grabbed her bag. “Let’s . . . let’s just deal with this in the morning.” She hurried into the bathroom and shut the door behind her, locking it and turning to face the mirror. She blinked, letting her true form swell, black smoke slipping over her eyes for only a second. She didn’t _feel_ any different; it was like she had always been this way. At the same time it felt strange and foreign. The young demon ran a hand down her face. She really needed a drink. 

 

 **T** he sun was coming up when she emerged, and both Winchesters were seated at the small table, both dressed in their fed suits. Alex sat down on the bed, ignoring the wary looks she received. “We were thinking,” Sam started, “maybe what happened to you is what happened to the other people in town.”

“Think about it,” Dean added. “One woman went from nice, shy, little Catholic girl to _Saw IV_ , right? And maybe Little Miss Tranny didn’t actually consent to the whole sex change, not to mention she won’t even admit that he used to be a she. And on top of all of that, you went from, uh, heavenly host to a black-eyed bitch. No offense,” he quickly added.

“Yeah, no, that was actually a little offensive.” Alex crossed her arms, but had to agree with their logic. “But yes, I see where you’re going with this. Okay, so what are we dealing with?” 

“No idea,” the taller hunter admitted. “Dean was going to talk to the police, and I’m going over to Marlee’s — the second vic.”

“I’ll go with Dean,” Alex decided. She brushed her damp hair out of her face and moved to change into her dress clothes. “When are we leaving?” 

“As soon as you get ready, I guess.” Dean stood up and closed his laptop. “You feeling up to it?” 

Alex actually snorted, shucking off her oversized t-shirt and pulling on a tank-top. “I’m a demon, Dean, not an invalid.” She tugged on her white shirt and buttoned it up. “I think I can manage talking to a couple of people.” She let her eyes flash black, winking at Dean as his face darkened. She let her eyes slide back to their natural blue-grey as she pulled on her black dress pants. “Let’s go.”

 

 **A** lex followed Dean into the police station, fingers closing around her fake ID. “Special agents Ulrich and Sheppard,” Dean introduced, holding up his badge. “FBI.”

“Ah.” A middle-aged officer stood up from his desk, holding out his hand with a smile. “Agents. I’m Lieutenant Cardenas. You must be here about the Savage murders.”

Dean shook the man’s hand. “Uh, yeah. That’d be correct,” he affirmed, and Alex shoved her badge back into her suit pocket. “Listen. We just got into town last night, so we’ll need a copy of the file and to talk to Bela Savage, if that’s possible. The sooner the better.” 

“Yeah, of course. I’ll go check with Andrews and get that file for you.” The officer walked away, leaving Alex and Dean standing at the desk. He came back a minute later, a manilla folder in his hands. “Here’s the file,” he told them. “Give us five minutes, and Bela will be in Interrogation Room C, just down that hall.” He pointed off to his left. “Until then, you’re welcome to wait around here. There’s coffee around the corner.”

“I could go for some coffee,” Alex agreed. “I’ll be right back.” She slipped around the corner, following her nose to where a pot of coffee sat waiting. She poured herself a cup; Alex didn’t know about her angel half, but currently as a demon she liked her coffee black. _Like my soul_ , the demon quipped herself, snorting in amusement at her own cleverness. She took a careful sip.

The liquid boiled and burned her throat, and Alex spasmed, eyes flashing black in surprise as the skin in her mouth hissed. She somehow managed to set her cup down safely, even as bright lights flashed behind her eyes. She covered her mouth, blinking again to hide her form as a female officer stopped in the doorway in surprise. Alex straightened up, trying to hide the tremble in her limbs as she pushed past the officer in search of her partner. “Dean,” she hissed, voice hoarse. 

Dean looked over at her, eyes narrowed in confusion. “I thought you were getting coffee?” 

“There’s a hunter in the police force,” Alex hissed, anger boiling under her skin. “W-Who puts holy water in the fucking coffee pot?” She reached up to soothe her burning throat, a growl raging through her chest.

Dean reached out, a hand coming to rest tentatively on her shoulder. “Calm down,” he quieted. “Deep breaths. Just forget about it, okay? It’s not important.”

“You’re not the one who was just assaulted by a cup of coffee,” the young demon shot back, hands on her hips.

The Winchester just shook his head. “Come on. Let’s go talk to Bela and get out.” He pushed open the door to reveal a woman sitting at a metal desk, her wrists handcuffed to the table. She sat facing a one-way mirror, and her gaze was focused on her hands, fingers dancing over the metal surface below. Alex closed the door behind her, and Bela looked up, dark eyes blinking in confusion at their entrance. 

“Bela Savage?” Dean started. “Agent Ulrich. This is my partner Agent Sheppard; we need to ask you a few questions.” He handed the file to Alex and sat down at the table. Alex settled against the wall, flipping through the files inside. Pictures from the crime scene thoroughly depicted the horrific and brutal murders. There were testimonies from the neighbors about the woman’s good character, as well as Bela’s own statement. 

“Mrs. Savage?” she asked, looking up from the file. “You went missing for a day before the murders, correct?” 

Bela didn’t give a verbal answer, but only nodded coldly, staring over at the demon. Alex held the woman’s gaze, refusing to look away from the obvious challenge. 

Dean cleared his throat, drawing their attentions to him. “Do you remember where you were for that day?” 

Bela blinked. “I don’t know,” she told them bluntly. “Why do you care anyways?”

Alex strolled forward, dropping the folder beside Dean and leaning forward, voice dropping to a quiet but intent tone. “Don’t mess with me,” she warned, planting her hands on the metal desk. “Here’s how this is going to go. You’re going to tell us everything you remember, alright, or else you’re going to seriously regret it.” 

Bela scoffed. “You can’t actually hurt me.” 

“Yeah, well, I’m not actually FBI.” Alex let her eyes flash black, grinning as the confident facade immediately fell away to be replaced with fear. She straightened back up, blinking again to return her eyes to normal. “Now tell us. What happened that day you disappeared?” 

“I don’t know, okay?” Bela insisted. “I was going out on my daily jog. When I got home, my family said I had been gone for almost a day, which was completely ridiculous. That’s all I know. I swear.”

Alex looked down at Dean. “That’s what happened to me,” she agreed before turning back to Bela. “We’re going to need to know your jogging route.”

 

 **A** lex laid the map out across the table at the restaurant, tracing Bela Savage’s jogging route with her finger. In black pen Alex had drawn her own path the night before, at least what she remembered of it. Dean was sitting across from her, and Alex looked up as the bell on the door jingled, announcing the arrival of Sam. 

The hunter slid into the booth beside his brother, and Dean shifted, elbow accidentally bumping his drink. He reached out as it tipped, barely catching it in time. “Jesus Christ,” he cursed, and Alex flinched at the sharp pain his words caused, black eyes flashing.

“Don’t talk like that,” she snapped and forced her darkness back down, letting her eyes faded to blue. “It physically hurts.” Dean muttered out an apology, and Alex turned the map so Sam could see. “Here’s where vic number one went when she disappeared. Same story as me; she had no recollection of time actually passing. But we did sort of travel along the same route, at least around here.” She circled a portion near the lower map where the two lines coincided. “So what did you find?” 

“Uh, basically what you just said. Marlee — Max now, I guess — says he-she . . . uh, they don’t remember anything of the time lapse. And they don’t remember being a girl either.”

“Kind of like how I don’t remember being an angel,” Alex agreed. “Okay, cool. So do we have _any_ ideas on what this might be?” A man walked by and Alex glared at him, disliking the way his presence seemed to brighten the dark bar. Guy was obviously a priest, and a pious one at that. 

“An angel?” Sam suggested, snapping Alex out of her thoughts. “I mean, changing reality takes a lot of power. This isn’t just your typical monster.”

“Yeah,” Alex half-agreed, “maybe, except why would they change me into a demon? That doesn’t make a whole lot of sense. Not to mention angels usually have a motive; they don’t do things for the fun of it.” At those words she tipped her head, trying to fight her way through the fog in her memories. “At least I think.” 

Dean nodded, looking thoughtful. “Yeah, that doesn’t sound like the God squad.” He studied his drink, deep in thought. “Djinn?” he finally offered. “I mean, I know this isn’t the typical alternate reality, but it’s similar, right?” He leaned back in his booth. “Dammit. Where’s Bobby when you need him?”

“Well, it looks like we’re going to have to make due without him, Dean.” Sam shook his head as their waiter approached. “Look. We’ll figure it out later.” 

 

 **T** wo hours later found Alex and the Winchesters were back in their motel room. Alex was sitting on the floor, back against the wall, willing a tennis ball to roll back and forth across the carpeted floor. Both Winchesters sat at the table, Sam on his laptop, and Dean with his nose buried in a book. “Would you stop that?” Dean finally snapped, looking down at the demon. “It’s unnerving.” 

Alex flicked her wrist, and the tennis ball flew off of the ground and bounced off of Dean’s shoulder, leaving the hunter to shoot her a glare. “I’m bored,” she protested. “This right here? This is boring.” She stood up. “You know what? I’m going to go get something to drink.” Before either of the Winchesters could protest she grabbed her jacket and stalked out of the room. 

For a Sunday afternoon, there didn’t seem to be a whole lot of activity at the motel, and Alex walked down the row of doors, heading for the liquor shop a few blocks down. She had just stepped out into the alley when she felt something strange. 

The demon turned in time to see a large man standing there before her vision flashed white. Her skin burned, and Alex let out a strangled cry as her skin hissed and crackled, steam rising as the holy water burned at her twisted soul. She doubled over in pain as hands grabbed her by the jacket and threw her into the dark alleyway. 

Alex straightened up and took a step back. She dragged her sleeve over her face, eyes sliding to black as she let out a low hiss. “Let me guess. Hunter from the police station?” 

“Name’s Mac.” The man strolled forward, knuckles cracking loudly. “And I don’t take well to demons in my city.” 

Alex straightened up, fists balling in preparation for a fight. “This isn’t what it looks like,” she warned. “I’m not your biggest problem right now, do you understand?” A fist came out of nowhere, and the demon barely managed to duck in time. She retaliated with a jab to the chest, and when Mac stumbled back she threw her arm out, anger fueling her will to throw him back against the motel. The hunter flew into the brick wall, the breath knocked out of him, and he slumped to the ground. 

Alex stalked forward, and the man staggered to his feet. “ _Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus,_ ” he began, and Alex halted, taking a deep breath as her soul stirred uncomfortably. “ _Omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et sect diabolica._ ”

The demon took a step back, fighting for control as her soul rolled and boiled within her, desperately trying to hold on. “Stop,” she hissed, voice strained. “Just listen to me.”

“ _Ergo, draco maledicte, et omnis legio diabolica, adjuramus te. Cessa —_ ” A dark shape came out of nowhere, knocking Mac to the ground, and Alex staggered backwards, drawing in a deep breath as the exorcism ceased. Dean rolled off of the hunter and to his feet, fists poised, and then hands were on Alex’s arms, holding her back and steadying her. 

She shook off Sam Winchester as Mac got to his feet, his flask in his hands. Dean shifted forward. “Hey hey hey,” he warned. “Take it easy.” Holy water hit his face, and Dean’s shoulders fell in exasperation. “I’m not a demon,” he snapped. “We’re hunters like you.” 

“Christo!” 

Alex jumped as the name shocked her to the bone, eyes flashing black, but neither of the Winchesters moved a muscle. “Yeah,” Dean said. “Still not a demon.”

Mac’s attention was fully focused on Dean. “Sorry,” he apologized after a second’s hesitation. “Just making sure. Some of the higher demons seem to be immune to this stuff.” Here he shook his flask and stuffed it back into his jacket before adding, “But ‘Christo’ always seems to make ‘em flinch.” 

Alex let out a sharp breath at the word. “Stop saying that,” she snapped, forcing her eyes back to normal. She crossed her arms, glaring at the other hunter. 

“So let me get this straight.” Mac mimicked her, biceps bulging as he folded his arms across his chest. “You boys are working with a _demon?_ I mean, don’t get me wrong, but that’s wrong on every level.” 

“Yeah, well . . . it’s complicated. And trust me; we don’t normally work with demons.” Dean looked back at his brother before adding, “I’m Dean, by the way. Dean Winchester. That’s my brother Sam.” 

“The Winchesters?” Mac’s eyebrows rose in surprise, and Dean glanced back at his brother, eyebrows raised in a grin as they were recognized.. “I’ve heard of you two. Broke the world a few years back.” Dean’s grin immediately fell away, but before either could respond he held out a hand. “I’m Mac. Mac Fowler.” 

“Huh. Well, Mac, why don’t we go back to the room and have a little chat, huh? Maybe you can explain to us what’s going on in this town.” Dean motioned the hunter after him, and Alex moved off ahead, flicking open their motel door with a wave of her hand and plopping down on the bed. 

“So why exactly are you working with a demon?” Mac leaned against the wall across from Alex, eyes dark as he watched her.

“She’s not a demon,” Dean explained before he caught himself. “Well, I mean, she is — it’s complicated, okay? We don’t know what’s going on, but she wasn’t a demon yesterday.”

“Apparently I was an angel,” Alex agreed. “Fluffy wings and a harp, the whole nine — sounds like real fun, right?” She watched as Dean pulled four beers out of the fridge, and begrudgingly accepted one, tearing off the lid and taking a long drink. “Oh look,” she added scathingly. “Finally a beverage that isn’t _poisoned_.”

Mac looked unapologetic. “Precaution,” he explained bluntly. “I have a blessed rosary in the pipes of the police station; it purifies the water coming in. Had almost forgot about it since after the apocalypse was averted and the demons stopped coming. That is, until you showed.”

Alex snorted, shaking her head in disbelief as she turned back to her drink. “Idiot,” she muttered, raising the glass rim to her lips.

“So you’re on the force, right?” Dean handed Mac a beer before cracking open his own. “So you know about what happened to Bela Savage and Marlee Lowry.”

“Yeah.” 

“And you didn’t think that was weird?” Sam sat down at the table, looking over at the hunter with a noise of disbelief. 

Mac just shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess it’s weird. Listen, guys. I’m not a hunter like you two are, okay? I got into this because this town was being overrun by demons a few years back. I don’t deal with the monsters like you do. Hunters come into this town and they go, and unless there’s demons involved,” a glance at Alex accompanied those words, “I leave them alone.” 

“Yeah, well, she’s not a demon,” Dean repeated, voice growing sharp. “Like I said, she’s an angel — was an angel, until whatever’s out there got a hold of her. So either you can go home, or you can actually pitch in and help stop this from happening again.” 

Mac hesitated, looking between the two Winchesters, who steadily stared back. “Fine,” he begrudgingly said. “What do you want me to do?” 

Sam waved him over. “We still don’t know what we’re dealing with,” he explained, “but we have a general idea where it is.” He pointed to the map laying beside him. “All three people went by this general area during the time they went ‘missing.’ Which means whatever it is we’re dealing with —”

“Is probably there” Mac finished. “Yeah.” 

“Okay. So is there any abandoned places around there? Anywhere something could hide out?” 

Alex saw Mac’s face furrow as he carefully scrutinized the map. “Nothing in that area,” he finally said. “Although there’s the Nopeming Sanitarium ten minutes south.” He pointed to a spot on the map. “It’s been abandoned for decades, supposedly haunted, but like I said, I only deal with demons.”

Sam looked up at Dean, who just shrugged. “It’s worth checking out.” 

“Okay. Then let’s check it out.” Alex stood up and snapped her fingers, pushing the dark, twisted energy that sat in her gut outwards and around the hunters before shifting them into the entryway of Nopeming Sanitarium with a single thought. “Huh,” she said to herself, nodding in appreciation. “That was easier than I expected.”

“What the hell?” Both Winchesters spun to face her, and the demon shrugged, faking innocence. 

“Hey,” she defended. “You guys said we should go check it out. So here we are.” She looked around the abandoned building, reaching out to see what she could feel, but she sensed nothing immediate. “So, should we split up, gang?” She took a step forward, and then she paused, eyebrows quirking. “Do you smell that?” Alex lifted her head and inhaled deeply. “That’s . . .”

 

_**A** lex turned down the street, fingers brushing against the damp, cold brick wall beside her. There was something up ahead, something dark, but Alex couldn’t place the feel. Powerful. Twisted. It was hunting something, unaware that it itself was being hunted. Despite its size, Alex could feel the swiftness and agility by which it moved. _

_She moved forward, feet silent on the pavement, and she tipped her head to one side, mouth opening slightly to taste the air. Damp, still thick with rain, with a hint of . . . was that cherries?_

 

A hand on her shoulder had her jumping. “Alex,” Dean insisted, and the tone of his voice implied he had been saying her name for a while. “Hey. Did you hear anything I just said?” 

“Sorry.” The young demon looked over at him with a small, apologetic shrug. “Do you smell that?” She inhaled again. “Cherries.” Alex surged forward, returning herself and the three hunters to the motel room, reeling back in her energy to let it rest just beneath her skin. “We should stay here,” she decided, moving back to where her beer rested on the ground. “This motel’s nice, don’t you think?” She picked it up and took a drink.

Sam and Dean exchanged looks. “What the hell was that about?” Dean finally asked, arms crossed as he turned to look down at the demon. 

“That smell. Cherries. Triggered sort of a flashback. Memory. Thing. I don’t really know, but point is I smelled that last night when I was tracking this thing.” She glanced over at Sam. “So this thing smells like cherries? Unless that place normally smells like cherries —”

“It doesn’t,” Mac interrupted, agreeing. “I’ve no idea where that scent came from.” 

Alex raised her eyebrows at Sam, and he frowned. “Okay. But that’s not a lot to go on.” He sat back down at the table, sliding his empty beer bottle out of the way. “This might take a while.”

“Yeah, I bet it will.” 

 

 **“H** ey.” Sam leaned back in his chair, hands lifting from the keyboard in surprise. “I think I actually got something.” 

“You better have something,” Alex muttered just loud enough for both Winchesters to hear. “It’s been five hours.” She was sprawled out across the far bed on her stomach, legs bent so her feet were in the air. Her laptop nestled on the pillows beside her face as she mindlessly scrolled through her Netflix queue, pausing every so often to read the small description of the movies. Mac Fowler was long gone, and Dean was sitting on the other bed, long legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles.

“Hey,” Sam Winchester retorted, barely taking the time to look up at her, “these things take time. At least _I’m_ being helpful.” Alex just rolled her eyes. 

“Yeah, we definitely got to find a way to fix you up,” Dean agreed, walking over to his brother. “Demon you’s a bit of an ass.” The young demon snorted in contempt at those words, and Dean took a long sip of his beer before moving to stand behind his brother. “So,” he asked, “what did you find?”

“I think we’re dealing with a Shaitan.”

“Shaitan?” Alex repeated. “Yeah, I’ve never heard of one of those.” She snapped her laptop shut and got up off of the squeaky bed, head tipped as she approached. “What are they? Asian?” 

Sam shook his head. “Not exactly,” he explained. “More along the lines of Middle East. They’re actually a type of djinn.”

Dean nodded in acknowledgement, and Alex stopped by the Winchester’s side. “You called it,” she admitted. “Okay, but I thought djinns did that whole alternate-universe thing. Why’s this one actually changing reality? Can they even do that?” 

Sam scrolled down the webpage. “Well, the alternate-universe type djinn are actually called _marid_ , or blue-type djinn. Shaitan, or red-type djinn, are related, but they’re malevolent and mischievous. In Islam, they’re associated with demonic forces, and are actually pretty powerful. Uh . . .” He scrolled further down. “Unlike blue djinn, they don’t feed on the blood of their victims and put them into a separate dream-world. Instead, they actually change one aspect of who that person is, and then they feed on the potential energy of who that person _could_ have been. The more central that aspect is to their victim’s identity, the more energy they receive.” 

“Okay, great.” Alex’s lips twitched into a deep frown. “That explains a lot. I mean, it’s a hell of a lot harder to change reality than it is to create a hallucinatory dream world. And of course that explains why Savage’s personality flipped, the sex change on Marlee, the loss of my wings, which were probably pretty badass.” Dean snorted in amusement, and Alex sat down at the table across from Sam. “Okay, so what’s with the time lapse? I mean, each victim is missing several hours.”

Sam shrugged. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “Maybe that’s how long it takes the djinn to feed? I mean, blue djinn keep their victims immobilized so they can feed for days, but the red djinn —”

“It’s more of a catch-and-release type thing,” Dean finished. “They have to chow down fast before they let it go.”

Alex nodded; that made sense. “So how do we kill this Shaitan? Better yet, how do we reverse what it’s done?” 

“To reverse the Shaitan’s transformations, you need to kill it,” Sam paraphrased. He took a few seconds to scroll down through the page. “Everything I’m seeing says it dies the same way as a blue djinn.”

“Silver knife dipped in lamb’s blood.” Dean nodded. “I think we can swing that. I got the knife in the trunk.” 

“And I can get the blood,” Alex added, standing up. “Just give me a jar and a knife, and I’ll bleed the nearest lamb I can find.” 

Both Winchesters looked mildly concerned by her statement, and the demon rolled her eyes. “Look do you guys want the blood or not? Either way, a lamb’s going to bleed, so . . .”

“Fine.” Dean threw up his hands in exasperation. “Go . . . find a lamb, or whatever.” 

Alex grinned and snapped herself out of the room and out to the trunk of the Mercedes-Benz. She unlocked the trunk with a blink of her eyes, and shuffled through the junk packed inside to remove a Bowie knife and a glass jar. 

“Planning a trip?” 

Alex let out a sharp breath and turned around, slamming the trunk behind her. “Why?” she quipped. “You interested in tagging along?” 

Crowley raised an eyebrow, but didn’t immediately respond. “What do you feel?” he finally asked. 

“Impatient. Now do you want to go bleed a lamb with me, or are we just going to stand here and have a talk?” 

She saw the demon raise his fingers, and as he snapped power surged forward, tangling around them, and then they were standing in the middle of a field. She watched as Crowley condescendingly waved his hand off to the left, and she turned her head to see a herd of sheep. With a disbelieving shake of her head, Alex stalked after them. “I meant how does it feel overall,” Crowley continued, sauntering after her. “You’ve been human, angel, demon. That’s not something many can boast about.”

“Yeah, well I don’t really remember the angel part,” Alex reminded. “It’s all a bit fuzzy.”

“Mm. Then what do you think it felt like? If you had to guess.” 

The young demon shrugged, shifting her grip on the steel knife. “Pure. Philanthropic. I don’t know, Crowley. Human was shitty, demon is shitty, angel was probably —”

“Shitty, yes, yes. I get the picture.” 

“Why do you care, anyways?” Alex located a small ewe and willed it closer. It was pulled to the ground with a small squeal and yanked across the grass until it came to stop at her feet. “If this works, I won’t be a demon for long.” She knelt down, ignoring how uncomfortable it felt to have the King of Hell towering over her. 

“Or you could stay a demon,” Crowley countered, and that statement actually made Alex pause, looking up in confusion. Seeing he had her attention, Crowley continued, “Just keeping your choices open. In case you want to stay powerful instead of going back to that pathetic little choir girl you were.” He paused, looking about, then casually continued after a second or two, “Interesting thing about demons. The only emotions we really feel are what you lot call the seven deadly sins. Lust, greed, pride —”

“—sloth, envy, gluttony, yeah, I know, I know.”

“And anger,” Crowley finished. “Yes. Every demon is fundamentally built upon one of those, and those seven are all demons feel.” He watched as Alex slit the lamb’s leg, letting the blood spill into the glass jar. “You get a lot of greed, a lot of pride, a lot of lust. Far too much sloth. What you don’t get — as surprising as it may seem — is a lot of anger.”

“Surprise surprise,” Alex muttered. The lamb struggled, but she forcefully held it down, the downward twitch of her lips the only sign of her displeasure.

“Yes, actually, quite surprising. Not as common as one might think. So you’d probably imagine my surprise when you showed up, roiling and apoplectic. Too bad that angel of yours got there first. You would have made a fine demon.”

“Yeah, I think you have plenty of demons.” Alex let the lamb up, roughly willing it to heal the cut on its leg before watching it stumble away back to its mother.

“Oh, there’s lots of demons, yes, but they’re all near-sighted little prats.” Crowley’s voice grew scathing. “No motive, no vision. It’s like leading of a bunch of sheep.” 

“I guess that makes you a sheppard, now doesn’t it?” Alex tightened the lid on the jar of blood and stood up, willing herself back to motel, and in a blink of the eye she was there. Crowley didn’t reappear, and Alex stalked back into the motel room. 

Sam and Dean were seated at the table, and both looked up when she entered. “You’re back.” 

“Uh, yeah. What were you expecting?” Alex set both the bloody jar and the small, steel knife down on the table. “Lamb’s blood, fresh from the source. Now. Any idea where this bastard is?” 

She frowned when Dean shook his head. “We were hoping you’d have an idea.” The young demon shrugged, so Dean stood up. “Then I guess we’ll have to start back at Nopeming. You said it was there; maybe that’s where it stays between hunts. Here.” He handed her a silver knife before picking up the jar. “The sooner we kill this thing the sooner we get you back to normal.”

Alex rolled her eyes, but moved to snap her fingers, ready to will them back to the sanitarium. She cocked an eyebrow when Sam quickly reached out to stop her. “Better not,” he warned. “We’re driving.” Seeing her confusion the Winchester explained, “If this does work and you go back to being an angel, we’re going to need a ride back here. You can’t fly as an angel, Pip.” 

Alex looked thoroughly offended and horrified. “What? I can’t fly? What kind of a pathetic angel am I?”

Sam shrugged. “I don’t know. Just get in the car.” 

 

 **D** ean dipped the silver knife into the lamb’s blood before handing the jar to the young demon beside him. She took it, coating her own knife into the viscous fluid before handing it back to the Winchester. She watched the blood droplets form along the edge of the knife as Sam prepared his own weapon. “Alright,” she finally said, stepping away from where she was leaning against the side of the car. “You guys want to split up, or is this going to be a valiant team effort?” Her voice dripped with dry sarcasm, and Dean cuffed her over the head. 

“We’ll go in together,” Sam decided. “If you want to go off on your own later, fine.” He led the way up to the bolted doors of the Nopeming Sanitarium, and Alex pushed past him when he hesitated, bringing the three of them into the foyer with a single thought. 

“Little warning next time?” Dean muttered.

Alex rolled her eyes. “You’re welcome.” Dean pulled out his flashlight and strolled off towards the staircase, and Sam and Alex trailed afterwards. The young demon focused on the hall ahead of them, fingers toying with the handle of her knife. 

They had just reached the top of the stairs when Alex suddenly stopped, head tipped back. “Smell that?” She pushed past Dean, sniffing again, and when she spoke again her voice was soft. “Definitely cherries. It’s here.”

The young demon slunk forward, slowly making her way down the hall in search of the Shaitan. She felt the Winchesters move off in a different direction, but that only made her quicken her pace, determined to find the Shaitan first. With a blink of her eyes she imagined herself at the far end of the hall, and then she was there. She let out a low whistle. “Come out come out wherever you are,” she half sung, feet silent on the wooden floor. 

Something creaked, and the demon paused, trying to pinpoint what it was. There. Alex willed herself to be standing behind the Winchesters, and then she was there. “Basement,” was all she said before she whisked herself away again. She was standing at the bottom of the stairs, facing a long, dark hallway ahead of her. The demon, however, could see clearly; in fact, as she noted, the darkness only made her more comfortable. She could hear the Winchesters thundering on the floor above her, and she slipped down the hallway. 

She entered a long, unfinished room, lit only by the fading sunlight coming through the small windows near the ceiling. The demon slipped into the room, gaze coming to rest on her prey. 

A tall, dark man stood in the corner, his back to Alex, facing a woman who hung chained from the ceiling. The Shaitan’s hand rested on her cheek, fingers and arms glowing with an unnatural red light as he fed. The demon slipped forward, tightening her grip on her knife, but before she had made it halfway the red djinn pulled away, turning around to face her. 

Energy crackled between them, and the dark, swirling tattoos covering the djinn’s skin began to glow bright red, and his eyes followed suit. The demon, however, wasn’t intimidated. Her own energy, cold and black in comparison, spiraled outwards as she thrust out her hand, and the djinn flew back into the wall. 

Alex strolled forward as the creature struggled to his feet, keeping her walk as casual as possible. “You know,” she began, “it’s almost a pity I’ll have to kill you. Angel me sounds like a loser; I’m not looking forward to going back to _that_.” She twirled the knife in her hand, willing the djinn back into the wall and holding it there as she struggled to maintain control as the Shaitan fought back. “Then again,” she continued, refusing to show how much she was straining, “I let you go, that means Crowley’s my boss. We’re friends, yes. Besties, actually. But I would _despise_ him being my king. So you’ll have to go.” 

Alex moved forward, easily avoiding a hand that came out to knock her away, and slid the knife into the djinn’s heart. The djinn jerked, and the demon watched the glowing red eyes flicker and die as death took hold, and she stepped back, watching the vibrant tattoos fade. The djinn fell to the ground and breathed its last. 

Pain was the first thing she felt. It was as though fire consumed her, burning at her soul, and Alex let out a hiss, eyes closed and teeth clenched. The fire faded, and warmth spread through her limbs, followed by a chill that soothed her singed body, washing away the aches. Black and gold wings exploded from her back, stretching out towards the ceiling as her feathers uncurled, and the angel turned her head to stare at them as the floodgates in her mind opened, memories spilling forth. 

Footsteps echoed through the halls, and then the Winchesters slid to a stop inside the room, gaze dropping to the body by Alex’s feet. “Good,” Dean finally said. He raised his flashlight, beam resting on Alex. “How are you doing? You still . . .”

Alex blinked, letting the light catch on her feathers so their shadow flashed visible behind her. “I’m an angel again,” she confirmed. She let her grace rest beneath her skin, curling around Lucifer’s grace that was still bubbling angrily within her, trying to soothe it. “I suspect the other two women will be the same.” Her gaze slid over to where the young woman was hanging from the ceiling, still unconscious. “We should get her to a hospital.” 

“Yeah.” Dean hurried past her, and Alex watched as he and his brother helped the young woman down. 

 

 **T** he sun had set by the time they returned to the motel. Alex unlocked the door and pushed her way in, wings fluttering slightly as one of the Winchesters pushed their way through them. Sam immediately disappeared to the shower, and Alex sat down on the bed, watching silently as Dean pulled a beer out of the fridge. Seeing her gaze on him, he held it up. “Want one?” 

“No thank you.” 

Dean sat down on the other bed, turning to face her. “So?” he prompted, cracking open his drink. “How did it feel? Being a demon and all.”

The young angel looked thoughtful for a second, processing what he had asked. “It was dark, powerful,” she finally began. “A little . . . freeing, actually. More than I guess I would have expected. I didn’t have to care about you, or about Sam or Castiel. It just didn’t matter. I was strong, too. I could do way more than I can as an angel.” Her wings flapped slightly for emphasis. “I mean, since I still can’t fly and all. So it had its perks.”

Dean let out a scoffing sound. “You were a dick as a demon.” 

“Yeah, well, at least demon me isn’t the broken little angel I am.” Alex turned to look at where her duffle bag sat open, and where Castiel’s trench coat use to lay on top of her things. “I . . . it’s just that much clearer now after being a demon. How dependent I am. I don’t know.” The angel shook her head. “It’s not that I hate it, it’s just . . . demon me would have.”

“It’s like I said. Demon you was a dick.”

“Well, yeah, I guess. But I . . . I wonder if I had remembered what being an angel was actually like if I would have made the same choices. Or if I would have chosen to stay a demon.” She immediately shook the thought off. “That’s ridiculous,” she finally decided. “I mean, as an angel I’m broken and lost, but hey, at least I’m not Crowley’s bitch.” 

“Very true.” Dean chuckled and took a long pull of his beer before he stood up. “You’re not broken, Pip. Hell, after everything you’ve been through, you’re still out here fighting. Not a lot of people can say that.” He glanced towards the bathroom where Sam was still showering. “You feeling up to hitting the road once he’s out? Or do you want to get some sleep?” 

Alex shook her head. “I’m fine to keep driving,” she promised. “I’ll get my things in the trunk.” She stood up and grabbed her bag, zipping it up before turning to look over at Dean. “Oh, and Dean? Thank you.” She paused. “For everything.”


	41. Of Grave Importance

**“A** lright, here we go.” Dean put the fast food bag down on the hood of the car, and Alex pulled her legs in closer, leaning back up against the windshield to see the stars twinkling in the night sky. She accepted one of the bags from Dean, humming in excitement as she pulled out a taco. “You know,” Dean started, doing the same, “even though the world is going to crap, there’s one thing I can always count on — these things tasting the same in every drive-through in every state in our great nation.” He took a bite of his hard shell taco, eyes closing as he savored his meal. 

“I like tacos,” Alex agreed, watching as Sam dug out his own food from the bag. She turned her attention to the sky, wings folding outwards as a plane passed overhead. 

Dean’s phone rang, and the hunter started slightly at the noise before he pulled it out of his pocket. “Annie. How have you been?” 

_Annie?_ Alex tipped her head to one side. She was a hunter, undoubtedly — why else would she have Dean’s number? She vaguely remembered Bobby having mentioned a hunter named Annie, but that was all she knew. Alex tried not to stare at Dean with too much suspicion, instead keeping her gaze fixated on her food.

“Yeah,” Dean was saying, “us too. What’s up?” He listened for a couple of seconds, and Alex took another large bite of her taco, listening to the satisfying crunch of the corn shell. Dean nodded. “Yeah. Sure. Where you at?” A second later he asked, “You working?” followed by, “Near enough.” 

“Who’s Annie?” Alex whispered, nudging Sam in the back with her shoe-clad foot. Sam ignored her, and she frowned. 

“One o’clock?” Dean glanced over at Sam. “Yeah, that works. Okay, bye.” He hung up. “You remember Annie Hawkins, right?” 

“Uh, yeah.” Sam nodded in agreement. “Why? What’s up?”

“She, uh, she said she has some of Bobby’s old things, and was wondering if we wanted them. She’s down in Bodega Bay. We’re meeting her at the Pier Front Restaurant at one for lunch. Sound good?” 

“Sounds fine, yeah.” 

Alex watched as Dean stood up, face twisting into a frown. “We’re not leaving now, are we?” she asked. “We just stopped. You should eat now, Dean. Besides,” she added, looking upwards, “it’s a nice night out. When’s the last time we’ve actually stopped to look at the stars? Years. Literally years, guys.” 

Dean wasn’t convinced. “Come on. Bodega Bay’s about an eleven hour drive. We need to leave now if we’re going to get there on time.” 

Alex rolled her eyes, letting out a defeated sigh. “Fine,” she caved, “fine. Whatever. We can just eat in the damn car.” She slid off of the hood, grabbing the bag of tacos as she crawled into the backseat. “I miss the Impala,” she muttered. “This car fucking smells.” 

 

**July 17th, 2012**

**Bodega Bay, California**

**T** he Pier Front Restaurant was a quaint, bright little place, overlooking the warm, blue waters of Bodega Bay. Alex watched the waves roll in from the ocean as her wings twitched unnervingly. They were seated in a table at the corner, beside large glass windows looking out upon the water, and Alex had her back to the rest of the restaurant. The idea of leaving her wings exposed to the rest of the crowd made her uncomfortable, and she shifted nervously in her seat. Both of the Winchesters had their backs to the walls, Dean to her left reading the newspaper, and Sam to her right with the menu in his hands. Not sure what else to do, the young angel picked up the white and red laminated brochure. 

“Hey, get this,” Dean started. “Dick Roman in funding another archeological dig. Dude moves more dirt than ‘The Drudge Report.’ ”

“Well, any — anything on what he’s digging for?” 

Dean looked over at his brother. “Don’t you think I would have led with that?” 

Sam gave a small shrug and set down his menu. He glanced down at his watch before asking, “Annie’s not usually this late, is she?” 

“No,” Dean agreed, “never. She’s totally compulsive. I’ll try her cell.” He dug his phone out of his pocket, and Alex set down her menu, shifting once again in her chair. 

“You, uh,” Sam casually began, “you know she and Bobby had a thing, right?”

“Yeah.” Dean nodded in false agreement. “Yeah, I knew that.” However, the next second his face twisted into confusion, and he stopped dialing his phone. “Really?” 

“Yeah. Kind of a foxhole thing.” The Winchester made a face “Very Hemingway.”

“Huh.” Dean brought his phone up to his ear, and, after a few seconds added, “She, uh, and I kind of went Hemingway this one time, too.”

Sam looked surprised. “Alright, well . . . it happens,” he slowly agreed. He looked over at Dean, who met his gaze, and Sam made an apologetic face. 

Dean’s eyes widened, and his voice lowered in disbelief. “What, you too?” 

“Look, it was a while back. We ended up on the same case. She was stressed, I-I-I . . . I didn’t . . . have a soul.”

Alex snorted in amusement, and Dean looked over at her, a question on his face. The angel’s wings flicked in surprise. “Really?” She snorted again. “Dude, no. What part about ‘straight’ and ‘virgin’ don’t you understand?” 

“She’s not answering.” Dean snapped his phone shut and stuck it back into his pocket. “Well, here’s to ghosts that aren’t there.” Alex watched as he dug Bobby’s flask out of his jacket and poured a shot of whiskey into his coffee. 

“You sound kind of disappointed.” Alex prodded.

“Ah, it’s better this way.” Dean screwed the cap back on and put the flask down on the table. “I mean, even though I wish we could see him again doesn’t mean that we should.” He raised his mug, and Sam did the same, their glasses clinking together before Dean took a long drink. Sam followed more slowly, and Alex did a quick sweep of the room to make sure everything was still human. Dean’s voice had her drawing her grace back inside. “Are we being stood up?”

“Yeah, let’s hope that’s all this is.”

The young angel looked down at the clock on her phone. 1:20. “Do we know where she’s staying?” she finally asked. “She could just be, I don’t know, sleeping, maybe.” 

She knew how weak that sounded, but Dean nodded. “Crow’s Nest Inn. I don’t know what room.” He pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and dropped some cash on the tablecloth. “Let’s go.” He pocketed the flask and led the way out, closely followed by Alex and Sam. Once they were outside Dean tried calling Annie again, shaking his head when she didn’t pick up. 

“Nothing?” Even Sam was starting to sound worried. 

“Straight to voicemail.” Dean pocketed his cell. “Something’s not right.” 

“What’s she doing in Bodega Bay?” 

“She’s working some kind of job. She didn’t really say.” Dean stopped by their car and pulled out Bobby’s flask, unscrewing the lid before he peered inside and turned it upside down. It was empty. “I got to get a refill.”

Sam and Alex exchanged a look, both wearing the same frown. “You know what, man?” Sam reached out to slow his brother as Dean moved to put the flask away. “Why don’t you, uh, just pack it away for a while? All it does is just remind us of him, you know?” 

“Yeah, I thought about that, but, uh . . . not yet.” Dean put the flask in his jacket pocket and circled around to the driver’s side. “Let’s go check out Annie’s hotel room.” 

 

 **T** he door swung open, and Alex pushed her way inside, followed closely by both of the Winchesters. She flicked on the lights, revealing the old and unsurprisingly fishing-themed room before her. “Huh.” The angel made her way to where a pile of books and maps lay on the nearest bed. “Well she was definitely onto something.” A large relationship chart was pinned to the wall to her left, hanging above the small kitchenette, pictures and articles linked together with colored string. 

She sat down on the bed as Sam took a seat at the table, pulling another stack of papers closer. Dean sat down beside her, shifting through what lay on the bed. “Missing person’s reports,” he confirmed, laying them out. “Quite a few of them, too.” 

“These go back for years,” Sam added, flipping through the pages. “Disappearances never solved. They stop a few decades back, then pick up again just recently. All teenagers.” 

“Looks like Annie found a spot a lot of them like to poke around just before they went missing.” Dean was staring down at a small booklet, and Alex leaned closer so she could see the black and white print. 

“Old Van Ness house,” she read. “Interesting.” 

Dean got up, crossing the room to hand the pamphlet to his brother. “It’s, uh, cheery,” he half-joked as Sam took it, skimming the pages. 

“Well, whenever the police comb the place, they always come up dry,” Sam finally said, looking up at his brother. 

“Yeah, local law,” Dean scoffed. “Always on the ball.”

Sam shook his head and went back to reading. “So, built in 1862 by the Van Ness family,” Sam paraphrased for both his brother and Alex, “who lost it in the early 1900’s. Put up for sale a few years back. No takers.”

“Probably because it creeps their queso.”

Alex snorted in amusement at Dean’s word choice, but got to her feet and walked over to the Winchesters. “So is it just abandoned then?” 

“Yeah. It’s just been sitting there, boarded up for ages.” After a second’s pause he added, “ Oh, get this. I guess a couple months back, someone put it on one of those, uh, ‘most haunted houses in America’ lists.” 

“Let me guess. That’s, uh, when the teenagers started going missing.” 

“Yep.”

“Ah. I say we get rolling.” Dean moved towards the door and Alex hurried in front of him, stepping out into the bright California air. She stopped by the car, watching as Sam slung his jacket over his shoulder, and that action made Dean pause. “Hang on.” He slipped back into the motel room to grab his own jacket before returning to the car. “That got an address?” he asked, motioning to the booklet still in Sam’s hands. 

“Uh, yeah. Williams Avenue.”

 

 **T** hey were there within ten minutes, and Alex waited impatiently for the Winchesters to retrieve their flashlights from the car. “We ready?” she asked when they finally closed the trunk. Without waiting for an answer she led the way up to the large, iron-wrought gates and pushed them open. “It’s a nice house,” she commented as they moved up the driveway to the front door. “I mean, it’s creepy as fuck now, but I’m sure it’d be a good fixer upper.” 

Sam pushed open the front door and stepped inside, Dean following. Alex took up the rear, glancing around the dusty interior. A large, ornate fireplace lay in front of them, yet Alex shivered at the chill in the air. “Alright,” Dean said after a few second’s pause, “let’s go.” 

He led the way down a hallway to the right, and Alex pulled her hands up into her sleeves. “Is it just me, or is it kind of chilly in here?” she asked as they continued further into the house. “I don’t like the cold.” 

“It’s not that cold, no. Why?” Sam looked down at her. “You think . . .”

“I don’t know. I mean, I’ve never really had a reaction to ghosts before. Could be a lot of things, I guess.” Alex shrugged.

“Annie?” Dean called, and Alex watched as he pulled out his cellphone.

“There’s a whole lot of something going on.” Sam held up his EMF detector so all three could see the five flashing LED lights.

Three seconds later, the ringing of a phone could be heard echoing through the house. Alex mimicked the concern on the Winchester’s faces. “Is that Annie’s?” she asked. Dean didn't respond, but started moving towards the source, and Alex reluctantly followed. “She’s dead,” the angel decided, wings pulling in tight. “We’re going to find a dead — ow!” She flinched as Sam roughly knocked her over the head. 

“Quiet,” he reprimanded. “We don’t know she’s dead.” 

Alex scowled, rubbing the back of her head as the Winchesters moved off ahead. “This is like the first five minutes of a horror movie,” she muttered after them, letting her angel blade slip into her hands. The young angel pushed her grace out ahead of her, trying to see if a body lay in wait, but she felt nothing. They turned the corner to see a phone lying on the ground, screen lit up. 

Dean hung up, kneeling down to pick it up. His flashlight darted down the hall ahead before he straightened back up, looking down at Alex. “Feel anything?” 

“I can search the house. Hang on.” The young angel let her eyes drift close as her grace snaked out, flickering down the halls every which way. She shook her head. “Nothing on the first floor.” 

“Let’s head upstairs.” Dean led the way back down the hall to the foyer and up the creaking staircase. “That call to me was the last one she made,” he told them, stuffing Annie’s cell into his pocket. “The hell is she?” Alex followed as well, wings twitching uncomfortably as she glanced back down at the floor below. Dean must have noticed, because he soon asked, “You okay, Pip? You look a little pale.”

“I . . . I don’t like this place,” Alex finally admitted. “I can’t pinpoint it, but I don't like it one bit.” She shivered, tongue flicking out distastefully, and she dragged it across her teeth as she pulled it back in. “Let’s just get this over with, okay?” 

They turned down the hallway, and Alex took the lead, glancing back when she heard the constant hum of Sam’s EMF detector. “Still?” 

“We’re redlining all over the place,” Sam agreed. “Assume the worst?” 

“Yeah, I always do.” Dean had Annie’s phone up against his ear, listening to something, but Alex didn’t bother to figure out what. 

“Okay. Vengeful spirit, maybe lots of them. Killing kids.” Sam turned off the detector, and his flashlight darted across the walls. “Look around. No blood. No anything. Certainly no bodies.”

“Well, if evil is partying here, it’s got a hell of a cleanup crew. Wait wait wait.” Dean stopped, staring at the cellphone in his hands. “Here’s something.” He held the phone between him and Sam, and Alex moved closer as the message played. “From earlier this week.” 

The angel tipped her head, listening to the static, eyes narrowing as she distinctly made out four words. _Free me, free me_. “Female,” she finally decided. “Where’s that from?” 

In response, Dean showed the number the call had came from. All ten digits were asterisks. “You ever seen a phone number like that?” 

“Yeah, can’t say that I have.” Alex moved down the hall. “You guys check that half of the house, I’ll go down this way.” She pointed off ahead of them. “If you find something; pray.” When she saw the Winchesters exchange looks she added, “Listen, I just want to get out of here as soon as possible, alright? Go.” 

Without waiting for an answer she hurried off down the hall. She heard the Winchesters disappear into a room, and she nudged open the first door, grace flicking inside. “I hate it here,” she muttered, slipping back into the hall. She peered into each room she came across, grace flicking out, until she came to a large room at the end of the hall. 

The door creaked open, and the angel peered inside, pushing her grace out to encompass every inch of the the space inside. That’s when her face paled, and the angel quickly backpedalled. “Sam!” she yelled, running back down the hall. 

She almost ran into the Winchester as she turned into a doorway, letting out a small shriek of surprise as she hit a wall of solid flesh. Arms encompassed her, keeping her on her feet until Alex regained her balance enough to pull away. “What is it?” Sam’s face was dark, and he looked up and down the hall. 

“Find something?” Dean added, pushing past his brother. 

“Guys, I . . . I found _bodies_. Lots of dead bodies.” Alex breathlessly pointed down the hall. “Like . . . a lot a lot.” She took Sam’s hand and led him down the hall, pausing beside the door. “This way.” 

She dropped the Winchester’s hand as he pushed open the door, revealing the old, unused study. “I don’t see anything,” Sam finally said, stepping inside.

“There.” Alex pointed to the far wall. “Well, behind there. They’re all behind the wall.” She pushed her grace out again, suppressing a shiver at the cold flesh and bones. “Some are fresh, and some are old. Like, really old.” She crossed the room, fingers dancing over the mantle of the fireplace. “Might be a hidden room or something.”

She heard a click, and turned to see a bookshelf beside Sam swing open. The hunter let go of the candle holder mounted on the wall. “Here we go.” Sam stepped into the room, and Alex reluctantly followed, bracing herself for what lay inside. 

“Holy hell.” The angel suppressed a shiver at the sight. Corpses were everywhere, all within various states of decomposition. A worn and leathered skeleton was propped up on a bed. Two half-decomposed bodies were collapsed in the corner, with two more seated in chairs at a table across the room. A woman’s body, still quite fresh, was leaned against a nearby pillar, blood staining her mouth. 

“Annie.” Sam’s gaze was on the woman as well, confirming Alex’s suspicions. 

“Wow.” Dean stopped behind Alex. “There’s got to be . . . dozens.” 

“Are all of these people ghosts?” Alex shifted closer to Sam, gaze darting across the handful of bodies that were recently killed. “They’ve all been murdered. And that would explain the fuckton of EMF we’ve been picking up.” She looked up at the Winchesters. “Maybe we should get out of here.” 

She felt the chill in her grace before it prickled at her skin, and she spun around, weapon slipping into her hand, but she couldn't find the source. “We should go,” she repeated, this time more forcefully, jumping as the door slammed close. “Dammit!” 

“What the hell?” 

“Hang on, I got this. You better close your eyes.” 

“Alex —”

Alex pulled her grace in tight, letting it wind tighter and tighter until it snapped, exploding out in a flash of pure, blinding piety, and the door swung open. “Let’s go,” she snapped, hurrying through, poised to face whatever lay on the other side. However, there was nothing, and Alex relaxed only slightly. “Okie dokie, outside to the car,” she decided for them. 

“What about the bodies —”

“What about them? Whatever’s doing this is what put them there, so I doubt burning them would stop whatever is. Let’s just go, okay? We’ll come back when you two actually can defend yourself.” She followed the Winchesters out of the room and down the hall, slipping past them to hurry down the stairs. “I don’t like it here.” She threw open the front doors, and then they were out of the house. 

“You okay?” A hand came to rest on her shoulder, and Alex looked up at Sam, nodding. 

“Okay, I’m all on board for vengeful spirit.” Dean clapped Alex on the back before making his way towards the car. “Hey,” he called back at them, “where’d Annie get her intel? Do we know?” He stopped beside the car and opened the door, pulling out his flask to take a long drink.

“Uh, I think the pamphlet is on the front seat.” Sam walked over to the car, and Alex followed, shooting a quick glare back at the house as he wings twitched uneasily. “Here.” Sam picked up the booklet and read, “Bodega Bay Heritage Society.” 

“Huh.” Dean got into the car, and Alex and Sam followed. “Alright then. Let’s go.” 

 

 **T** wenty minutes later Alex found herself inside the Bodega Bay Heritage Society, studying a large wooden canoe that was hanging from the rafters. It was actually pretty cool. “The house dates back to the mid-19th century,” the man behind her was saying, but Alex didn’t pay him much attention; history was boring. “Miles Van Ness made his fortune in the gold rush, eventually settling his family back in Bodega Bay.” 

“Anything . . . unusual ever happen at the house?” Sam questioned, and Alex felt a small tap on her shoulder as Dean motioned her back into the conversation. 

“Oh, over the course of a century, things are going to happen in a house.” The historian’s gaze flitted over Alex before going back to Sam, and the young angel tipped her head, trying to place where she had seen his face before. “Some historians claim it’s haunted,” he added, and Alex nodded her head. Ah. That was it. President Snow. This man definitely had the facial hair of the guy from the new _Hunger Games_ movie.

“We only want to know the real scoop, of course.” 

The man nodded in agreement with Dean’s words. “Whitman Van Ness. Son and heir. Handsome, charming, dogged by tragedy all his life. He lost the family fortune, then the house. It became a bordello. He lived in isolation until his death at age 40.”

“Who’s, uh, that bruiser there?” 

The President Snow look-alike turned his head to see the photo Dean was pointing at. “Dexter O’Connell,” he finally said. “A convict. An extremely violent man.” He turned back to the hunters. “Mr. Van Ness was socially progressive and took pity on him. He worked as a groundskeeper. Dexter was convicted of murdering Whitman’s fiancée on the eve of their wedding. Another calamitous event in the poor man’s life.” 

Sam hummed in agreement, and Dean nodded. “Ah. Well, thank you.”

“The house _is_ popular this week,” the man mused as the three of them turned to leave. 

Alex grunted, but paused when she felt Sam and Dean turn back to him. “What do you mean?” Sam asked, sounding more curious that Alex had felt that entire day. 

“A lady came by the other day asking all sorts of questions.”

“Uh, red hair, 30’s, good looking?” Now Dean sounded interested, and with a sigh Alex turned to face the conversation. 

“Mm. I gave her the same advice I gave you.” Snow look-alike’s face grew serious. “Stay away from that place. It’s extremely unsafe.”

“Don’t worry,” Alex lied, sending a glance towards the door. “We’ll stay away. Can, can we just go now?” she looked back up at the Winchesters, face frowning, and Sam nodded. “Thanks,” she said to the historian before she led the way away. 

“Okay. So we should go to the library, see what we can find in the newspapers,” Sam decided, circling around to his side of the car. He glanced upwards where the sun was stretching towards the far horizon. “And then maybe dinner afterwards,” he conceded with a look down at Alex.

The young angel gave a small nod. “Yeah,” she agreed. “That sounds fine.” 

 

 **T** he sky had turned dark by the time they checked into a motel across the street from where Annie had been staying. Alex rolled her eyes at the sight of the sail-boat wallpaper before sitting down at the kitchen table. Her bag hit the ground beside her and she kicked it more towards the middle of the room so she would remember to grab it on the way out. 

She heard the shower start and looked up in surprise, head tipping as she saw Sam sitting on the nearest bed. She heard a scuffling in the bathroom through the open door, and then the metallic drag of the shower curtain as someone got in. Dean. 

She leaned back in her chair as Sam sorted through the photocopies of old newspaper articles that they had obtained from the library. “So besides Whitman’s fiancée,” Sam began after a few minutes, standing up and raising his voice so both Alex and Dean could hear him, “Dexter O’Connell was also convicted of killing a bunch of hookers that worked at the brothel. He escaped before they could hang him. But then he returned to the house, where he was found shot to death.” Sam let the article in his hand fall to his side, eyes narrowing in confusion. “Why would he escape and then go right back to the house where he got arrested?” 

Alex gave a half-hearted shrug, and Dean yelled from the shower, “I don’t know. Add that to a list of things I don’t know.”

Sam frowned. “So, what’s the next move?” 

“I don’t know.”

Chair legs squealed against the linoleum floor as Alex got up. “I guess find out where O’Connell is planted,” she admitted. “Then we should probably go back to the house and torch the rest of those bones. If they are all ghosts, they’d be better off put to rest.”

“Makes sense,” Sam agreed, “but . . . I don’t know. I guess that’s the best we’ve got.” 

Alex grunted, agreeing with the Winchester, before she moved over to the far bed. She heard Dean turn the water off, but after only a second of two of silence came Dean’s concerned voice.

“Guys?” 

Sam and Alex exchanged looks, and the young angel jumped to her feet, angel blade falling into her hands as her grace pulsed out. “What?” 

“Tell me you wrote that.” Alex stepped into the bathroom to see Dean wrapped in a towel and pointing at the mirror above the sink. She turned, head tipping as she saw the five words written in the condensation. 

_Get back to the house._

“Uh . . . no.” Sam’s face was blank with shock. “No, I didn’t.” 

Dean looked over at the young angel. “Alex. You wrote that, right?” he insisted. “W-With your angel mojo?”

“Yeah, and why exactly would I do that? I hate it there.” Alex stepped forward, finger brushing across the mirror. “I . . . do you think?” He grace pushed outwards instinctively, but she still felt nothing. “B-Bobby?” she hesitantly began. “Is that you?” The angel took a step back as the faucet suddenly turned on, steam rising from the hot water. The mirror squeaked slightly as letters were drawn on the glass, and Alex nodded as the word _yes_ became visible. “Bobby.” 

Dean turned to his brother. “This whole time we’ve been trying to talk ourselves out of it, he’s been — what’s he doing here?” 

Alex heard Sam move around behind her, but she couldn’t tear her gaze from the mirror. “You . . .” she breathed out in disbelief, and the angel took a step back, mouth hanging open. “You’re here. Oh my God, Bobby. You’re still here.” She watched as Bobby’s original message was circled, and she swallowed with a small nod. “Okay. I-I get it.” 

Dean put his hand on her shoulder. “We need to get back to that house, stat.”

“I —” Alex didn’t immediately follow. “I need to know if I can see ghosts. I-I mean, there’s got to be a way. I’m an angel.” She looked up at the eldest hunter. “Lucifer would know, Dean. I should go to sleep.” She pushed back the nervousness that settled in her gut at the thought of seeing the archangel, something she had been avoiding since she had become a demon. 

The Winchester shook his head. “You can sleep after this is done, okay? We need you back there.”

“No, no. You don’t understand. I need to sleep, Dean. I need to figure this out. You — if you need my help, you give me a call, understand? But I _need_ to see him again.” Alex hurried back out into the main room and sat down on the nearest bed. “You guys go. It’s just a ghost, right?” 

Seeing that she wasn’t going to be swayed, the Winchesters left, and as soon as the door closed behind them, Alex closed her eyes. 

 

 **“W** here the hell have you been?” Crimson wings exploded outwards, filling the room, and Alex shrunk away from the archangel’s wrath, her own black wings curling around her in surprise. 

Her back hit the wall, and her blue eyes opened wide in confusion. “L-Luce? What do you mean?” She held out a hand, placing it on the archangel’s cool chest to make sure he kept his distance until she could get her bearings. 

The wings dropped slightly at the gesture, but the anger on Lucifer’s face didn’t subside. “Your grace,” he expounded sharply. “It was gone for two full days. I thought you had _died_. What happened?” 

The young angel relaxed as she realized what he meant. “It’s a long story,” she promised, “and I can explain it all later, but I need your help.” 

“You’ll explain it all _now_.” Suddenly they were on the couch, Lucifer standing over her. His eyes flashed orange, flames dancing in his gaze, and Alex suddenly jumped to her feet. She cupped his chin, and the flames died at her touch, leaving Lucifer’s hand came up to cover hers. “Alex.”

“Your eyes.” The young angel’s own eyes squinted in confusion. “Why do they do that?” Before Lucifer could respond she added, “My eyes do that too.”

Wings curled around her, and Alex felt Lucifer’s grace stir curiously from within her. “Is that so?” The archangel arched his eyebrow, amusement in his eyes. “Interesting.”

“Cas doesn’t know what it is.” Alex dropped her hands. “I don’t . . . never mind. This isn’t important.” She shook the thought off with a shake of her wings, their rustling filling the quiet room. “I need to ask you a favor, and I need it quick. Please.”

Lucifer shook his head, stubbornly remaining on his original question. “Tell me what happened to your grace, _Enaiish_.”

“It was nothing.” Alex took a step back, but gave in. “It was a case, I got in a tangle with a Shaitan, it kind of . . . turned me into a demon for a little while. And I didn’t dream because I knew this would happen.” She shoved a finger into the archangel’s chest, and the archangel huffed. “I knew you would freak out like this, and it isn’t a big deal. Now I’m just here cause I need your help, okay? That’s all.” She looked out of the windows, which were their usual black. “I just need your help.” 

When Lucifer didn’t immediately answer, she reached out, fingers closing in Lucifer’s jacket as she moved closer, looking pleadingly up into his eyes. The archangel waited several more seconds, obviously drawing it out before he nodded. “I’m limited from where I am,” he warned. “There’s little I can do from inside the cage.”

“I don’t need much.” Alex let go of his jacket, moving back. “I just need to know how to see a ghost.” When Lucifer made a questioning noise, she explained, “It’s Bobby. He — he’s a ghost and I need to know how to see him. Is . . . that even possible?”

“Of course it’s possible.” Lucifer moved away, and Alex tipped her head, watching as he moved through the house. “Can’t you see him already?” 

“Yeah . . . that would totally explain why I came here asking you,” the angel quipped, curiosity prompting her to follow the archangel into the kitchen. “Why? Should I be able to see ghosts?” 

“Mm. No idea.” Lucifer paused beside the kitchen island, a finger coming up to rest against his thin lips as he thought. “Not sure what your kind can do.”

“And what does that mean?” Alex crossed her arms defensively at his tone. “ ‘My kind.’ ”

“You. _Enaiish_. Female angels.” The archangel vaguely gestured towards her before he began to rummage through one of the kitchen drawers. “I wasn’t around for the experiments concerning your creation; I don’t know what you can and cannot do. But.” The archangel pulled out a pad of paper and a pen before bringing the pen back up to his lips as he thought deeply once more. “I may be able to help.”

“Good. That’s kind of what I’ve been asking for.”

The archangel tossed the pen behind him and stalked towards her. Alex shifted backwards as he felt his grace stir within her, and she swallowed thickly as he grew closer. “Think of this,” he began, coming to a stop right in front of her. “Your grace is like a radio. It consists of wavelengths, just like all angels.”

Alex nodded; that made sense. “Okay. So, what? Are you thinking my grace isn’t, what, tuned in to ghosts?”

Lucifer hummed. “It’s possible,” he mused. 

“Okay, how do I change that?” Alex felt her grace shift, but it was hard to control within this dreamworld. She stopped trying, looking back up at the archangel, frowning at his impassive face. 

“Don’t know.” Lucifer shrugged, blood-red feathers rustling from the movement. “It’s something that just happens; I don’t know how I do it, I just do.” He sauntered over into the living room, and Alex followed, wings flicking in irritation.

When the devil didn’t continue she pressed, “Any ideas _how_ I could figure it out? D-Do I say a magic word? I—”

 

 **A** lex jerked awake as a car horn blared from the parking lot outside, and her wings flared out in alarm. “Dean?” She instinctively reached out for the empty bed beside her, but no one was there. “Sam?” She got out of bed. “Oh. Right.” The angel flipped open her phone and dialed the Winchester’s number. “Dean?” 

“Pip. Where are you?” 

“Motel room. I just woke up.” Alex stifled a yawn as she looked out the darkened windows in front of her. “I, uh . . . where are you guys?” Concern trickled through her as she added, “Everything okay?” 

“Yeah, we’re fine. We’re heading over to the cemetery where Van Ness is buried.” 

“Van Ness? What, what happened to Dexter? I thought he was our guy.”

“Well, a ghost hooker told us otherwise.” 

Alex opened her mouth, but immediately closed it again; it wasn’t the strangest thing she had ever heard. “You guys need any help?” she finally asked instead. “I, uh — there’s a couple cars out here I could borrow if you need me.”Alex peered out the window before she quickly added, “If you don’t I’ll probably just head over to the house. I’ll see if my ghost vision is up and running.” 

“Sounds good. Take care of those bodies while you’re there, would ya?” Alex heard the engine of the car rev as Dean sped up. “Listen, I should go. Talk soon.”

“Stay safe.” Alex heard Dean hang up, and she did the same, shoving her phone back into her pocket as she hurried to pull on her shoes and jacket. The angel did a quick sweep of the room to make sure she wasn’t missing anything before she stepped outside, locking the door behind her with her grace. The pins clicked back into place as she surveyed the parking lot. 

She picked out a silver Honda Accord, late 90’s by the looks of it, parked far away from the light of the motel. She took a quick glance around to make sure she was alone, simultaneously unlocking the driver’s side door with a flick of her grace. The door clicked open and she slid into the driver’s seat. “Classic,” she mumbled as the keys fell from the visor. She stuck them in the ignition and the car grumbled as it was forced awake. “Come on, baby,” the angel muttered as the car jerked, and she eased it out onto the road. 

 

 **T** he Van Ness House loomed in front of her, the dark shutters swinging in the wind. The inside of the house was cold, far colder than the night air, and the banister felt like ice beneath her fingertips. “Hello?” the angel called, footsteps miraculously silent on the floorboards. “Come on out, ghosty ghosties,” she called, letting out a high-pitched whistle. She flicked her grace out around the room, but she felt nothing. “Seriously?” 

She tried it again, this time focusing on the pulse within her grace. “This is pointless,” she muttered as she sped it up. “I’m never — holy fuckeroni.” Alex’s wings flared out as a woman appeared right in front of her. “Shit!” she exclaimed in surprise, jumping backwards. “That worked fast.”

She turned around, only to retreat several paces when she found herself face to face with a young man. His skin was pale, and Alex could still make out the banister through him; ghost. Then her gaze was drawn upwards. “Holy hell,” she breathed out, taking in the multitudes crowding the room. “H-Hi,” she stuttered out. The ghosts flickered, and Alex focused harder to keep her grace moving at the same pace. 

“What are you doing back here?” The ghost-man in front of her looked pissed, and Alex couldn’t really blame him. However, before she could answer he flickered and disappeared. 

“Uh . . .” Alex stepped forward. “Okay. Right. Bodies.” She shook off the strange commentary and hurried up the stairs, wings curled in tightly as she slipped through the throngs of people. “I liked this better when I couldn’t see everyone,” she muttered as some woman mindlessly stepped through her. “Too many dead folks for my liking.” 

The crowd thinned as she made her way towards the locked study door. “Looks like this place isn’t so popular,” Alex muttered, using her grace to unlock the door. “Wonder why that would be.” She stepped inside and froze. 

“Alex?” 

“B-Bobby?” Alex’s eyes widened. “Bobby, you — what are you doing here?” She looked around, pulsing her grace outwards. “Are the Winchesters here? Oh my God you’re alive.” 

“Wait.” Bobby’s eyes narrowed in confusion. “You can see me?” 

“Yeah, more or less.” Alex’s gaze slid over to the pale woman standing next to him, who looked pretty familiar. “That your friend? It’s Annie, right?” 

“Yeah, that’s right.” The redhead nodded before her gaze slid over Alex’s shoulder. “So you’re an angel, huh?” 

“You —” Alex glanced over her shoulder, wings flittering involuntarily. 

“Can see your wings?” Bobby finished. “Yeah. Bigger than I expected.” He glanced over his shoulder towards the fireplace. “Good work on finding those bodies, by the way. We should torch ‘em once this all blows over.”

“Uh, what?” Alex tipped her head, stepping forward in confusion. “Until what blows over? Sam and Dean are already off to take care of Van Ness —”

“Yeah. That’s the problem.” Bobby’s countenance darkened. “He’s with them. Must’ve planted something on them, cause he ain’t in the house anymore.” He motioned towards the angel. “When’s the last you heard from them?”

“Right before I came over here.” Alex dug her cellphone out of her pocket. “They said they were on their way over to the cemetery, but that’s all they said.” She dialed Dean’s number and pressed the phone against her ear. It rang once, twice, and then three times, and a sudden wave of concern pulled Alex’s lips into a frown.

It rang once more before the phone was answered. “Alex.”

“Dean. You’re okay. Listen, Van Ness —”

“Hooked a ride, yeah, we know.” There was a grimace in Dean’s voice. “He slipped something into Sam’s pocket. It’s okay, though. We just took care of it, although he’s probably coming your way. We’re five minutes out from the cemetery. You at the house yet?” 

“Yeah, I’ve been here for a few minutes.” Alex looked over at Bobby and Annie. “Uh, Lucifer’s trick worked, so know I’m seeing ghosts, which is honestly a bit disturbing. In related news, you’re missing your flask.” 

“What?” 

“Yeah, that’d be right. I’ve got a pretty good idea of who’s responsible, too.” Alex raised her eyebrows over at Bobby, who wasn’t paying her any attention anymore, now more focused on searching the room for something. “Listen. You guys just hurry up and take care of Van Ness; I got these bodies here.”

“Sounds good.” Dean hung up, and Alex shoved her phone back into her pocket. 

“Well?” 

“Well what?” Bobby ran his hands over the mantle, grunting in frustration. “How’d you get this damn door open, anyways?” 

Alex flicked her grace out and tugged on the mounted candle holder, crossing her arms as the bookcase swung open. “Why the hell are you a ghost?” she snapped. “Dammit, Bobby —”

“No offense, but do you think this can wait?” Bobby turned to look at her, clearly not happy about where this conversation was going. “We got to burn the bones before Ness gets back.” 

“Oh . . . that may be a slight problem.” Alex moved towards the open bookcase as her wings twitched uncomfortably. “Um, Sam and Dean unattached him from whatever, so he’s on his way back.” 

“Balls.”

“Took the words right out of my mouth,” Alex quipped dryly. “Let’s just hurry up and get out of here.” She cast a quick glance over her shoulder. “I’d give us a minute,” she guessed. “Maybe less.”

“You two burn the bones,” Bobby decided, moving towards the study door. “I’ll stall Ness.”

“Bobby —”

“Alex.” Bobby cut her off sharply. “Just do it, dammit. And hurry.” Then he disappeared, and Alex snorted in frustration. 

She hurried over to the bookcase and stepped inside, gaze flitting over the corpses. She hesitated, mind whirling before she snorted. “Fuck it,” she muttered, “I’m burning the whole room. It’s stone, it’ll live.” She glanced behind her to see Annie standing there. “Sorry,” she quickly backtracked. “Uh, was that insensitive? You’re cool with this, right? I can pull your body, uh, you —”

“It’s fine.” Annie seemed remarkably calm about the whole ordeal. “I’ve had just about enough with this ghost business. I’m . . . ready for some peace.” She let out a sigh before asking, “So what do you think happens to ghosts? Heaven, hell — none of the above?” 

The angel’s wings twitched as she thought about it. “Your soul will be taken to wherever it belongs,” she promised. “I’m sorry, but I don’t know which it’ll be.” 

“Don’t apologize. It’s not your fault.” Annie stepped into the room. “You got salt?” 

In response, Alex dug a flask out of her pocket and shook it. “Should be enough,” she promised, unscrewing the lid. She slipped in among the corpses with a grimace, sprinkling the crystals over the decaying skeletons. “We don’t get paid enough for this,” she muttered, tossing a handful of salt onto some corpses just out of her reach. “Sometimes I look forward to the day I get to quit this life, you know?” She glanced back at Annie with a flinch. “Sorry.” 

“No, you’re right.” Annie watched as Alex finished and quickly retreated back to the doorway. “So now. . .”

“Now I snap my fingers.” Alex raised her hand, fingers and grace poised to light the flames. “No need for gasoline.” She hesitated, watching the ghost standing in front of her. “Uh . . . are you ready?” 

“Yeah, I think so.” Annie closed her eyes, but Alex saw her muscles tense. “Will it hurt?” 

“Probably.” Alex let her hand drop back down to her side. “Listen uh, good luck. I hope you find yourself somewhere good.” 

“Yeah.” Annie’s voice broke slightly, but it stayed strong. “You too. Now hurry up and get it over with.” She flinched when Alex raised her hand once again, eyes squeezing shut. The angel took a deep breath and snapped her fingers, letting her grace snap out and heat up the corpses around her, their molecules shaking faster and faster until they broke into flames, burning instantly. Flames burst into being on the ghost, and her mouth fell open in a silent scream of pain. Alex intensified her grace on Annie’s body, forcing it to burn faster, trying to ease her suffering. 

All around her she heard the screams and cries of the house’s other occupants as their earthly ties burned away. She retracted her grace as Annie disappeared, stepping out of the room and closing the bookcase behind her, leaving the flames to die on their own. 

She stepped out of the study, eyes widening as she saw the ghosts all around her, dozens of them, flames eating away at their incorporeal beings. She slipped around them as they quickly burned away, leaving the hallways abandoned for the first time in over a century. “Wow.” Alex took three steps forward before she tipped her head. “Bobby?” she called, looking around for her friend before panic shot through her spine. “Dammit, your flask better not have been in that room!” she yelled, tearing through the house. “Bobby?” 

She slid to a stop at the top of the stairs. Bobby was laying in the front room below, limbs splayed out and eyes closed. 

“Whoa whoa whoa.” Alex hurried down the stairs, wings carrying her over the banister and to Bobby’s side. “What? C-Can ghosts be knocked unconscious? Why are you unconscious?” She poked at his arm, not surprised that her finger slid through. “Hey-o, come on, man. Wakey wakey.” 

Bobby didn’t stir, and Alex started to panic a little bit. “Seriously, man.” She reached for her phone, but stopped, not sure who she was going to call. 911? Yeah, that would get her locked up in the looney bin. _Excuse me, but I have an unconscious ghost._ Yeah. Alex shifted nervously. “Bobby? Please wake up.” 

Bobby’s head rolled to one side, and his eyes flickered open, slowly focusing on Alex’s wings. “You . . . I . . . how long was I out?”

“Um, a while?” Alex watched as the ghost slowly got to his feet. “Uh, are you okay? Dude, what the hell happened? I came downstairs and you were unconscious!”

“Ness was here.” Bobby reached out and rubbed his head, grunting in pain. “I’m fine. The Winchesters took care of him. Speaking of —”

The front doors were thrown open as the Winchesters rushed through, and Alex jumped to her feet. “Dean?” 

Dean’s eyes widened, and he slid to a stop. “B-Bobby?” 

“Wait.” Bobby looked back at Alex, confusion darkening his face before he turned back to the Winchesters. “You can see me too?” When neither responded he added, “You’re staring, you know.” 

“S-Sorry.” Sam stuttered out an apology before he stepped forward. “You’re actually here.”

Bobby snorted. “Course I’m here. I’ve been trying to tell you that for months.” He turned back to Alex, the confusion gone. “You got all the bones burned, right? Annie too?” 

“Yeah. All the ghosts are gone.” Alex looked over at Dean before adding, “Lucifer figured out how to let me see ghosts. Not as fun as it sounds, by the way.” 

Bobby grunted. “Tell me about it.”

Sam clearly still hadn’t gotten over the shock of seeing the hunter. “Bobby, h-how’d you stay here?” 

“Yeah, well, uh,” Bobby walked over to a table and pulled the flask out of one of the drawers. He held it up so the Winchesters could see. “Suck on that, Swayze.” 

“That’s why you never answered me.” Sam sucked in a deep breath at the realization. “I tried calling you — the, uh, talking boards, the works — but I was always alone. Dean always had that thing in his pocket. That’s why the EMF only went off half the time.” His voice cracked. “We thought we were going crazy.” 

“S-So what happened?” Dean pressed, finally speaking up. “Did you get stuck, or what?” 

“Actually, I _wanted_ to stay.” 

Alex’s wings rose angrily. “Bobby!” 

“I need to help,” the hunter retorted, but something flashed defensively in his eyes at the sight of her wings. “Seeing as none of you have been any use recently.” 

Alex’s feathers ruffled in offense, but she bit her tongue, choosing instead to glare at the ghost in front of her. Sam, however, firmly shook his head. “No,” he disagreed, “not if it means you have to be . . . this.” 

“Well, life wasn’t comfy. Why should death be? Now come on.” He looked around the empty house. “This place is giving me the creeps."

“I second that.” Alex led the way out of the old house, wings flaring outwards as soon as she crossed the threshold. “What the hell were you thinking, Bobby?” she snapped, casting a glance over her shoulder to see the three hunters following close behind. “I mean, seriously! Staying behind as a ghost? What ever made you think that could end well?” 

“I told you,” the hunter retorted gruffly. “We still got work to do. I just thought that was kind of important. So excuse me, but I figured you'd be a little more excited for the extra help.”

Alex opened her mouth to snap, but Dean beat her to it. “It’s not right, and you know it!” He and his brother stopped beside, glaring over at the ghost.

Anger flashed in Bobby’s eyes. “Sorry. You’re right. What was I thinking?” And then the hunter was simply gone. 

Alex spun around in confusion, wings falling flat and gaze hardening when she found Bobby in the car. “He’s in the backseat,” she announced, circling around and throwing open the door. 

“I don’t see him.” Sam’s voice was just as puzzled as his face, and Alex rolled her eyes, sliding into the backseat. The two Winchesters followed, exchanging long glances, and Alex watched Dean toss the flask into the trunk as he circled around to the driver’s side. 

“Well, I can.” Alex frowned. “I think he’s sulking.” She saw the ghost settle further into his seat as the Winchesters got in, turning his head to look out the window, and she folded her wings around her. “Yeah. He’s sulking.” 

“Oh shut up.”


	42. The Girl with the Dungeons and Dragons Tattoo

**July 22, 2012**

**Whitefish, Montana**

**T** he sun was slowly rising above the trees as Alex pulled the Marquis onto the dirt road leading back to the cabin. She glanced in the rearview mirror as she hit a pothole, wincing as she watched one of the grocery bags tip, but thankfully not fall off of the seat. However, she still slowed the car down, not wanting to spill its contents all over the backseat.

The winding road curved through the tall pines, obscuring the old cabin that lay straight ahead. It was only when she was within a hundred feet of it could the angel even begin make out its outline, even though she knew from memory exactly where it sat. She pulled the Marquis around the last curve and alongside the old Buick before she threw it into park.

“Sam?” Alex yelled the hunter’s name as she retrieved the first large bag of groceries. “Dean? A little help?” Neither Winchester came, and the angel rolled her eyes. “Idiots,” she muttered under her breath, but dutifully reached in and hooked her arm around the second grocery bag and lifted it up. Balancing each bag precariously on her hip, she made her way up to the cabin.

Her grace unlocked and opened the door for her, and she stepped over the threshold and almost straight into Dean. “Whoa.” Hands went out to wrap themselves around one of the bags. “Let me get that.”

“Thanks.” Alex shifted the remaining bag to both arms and carried it over to the table. “What’d I miss?” Her gaze darted around the room, passing Sam, who was standing in front of the far wall on the phone, over the mess of articles and photos that hung on the wooden walls, and finally over Bobby Singer, who was standing over by the fridge. She flicked a wing in silent acknowledgement, surprised to see him; after Bodega Bay he had been gone for almost forty eight hours — “resting,” he had called it.

“Yeah, I hear you,” Sam was saying, frustration evident in his voice. “Alright. Well, thanks for looking. Yep, bye.” He hung up and turned back to his brother. “So Nora didn’t see any patterns in the dig sites either,” he relayed, taking a seat on the old, worn couch.

“Nora?” Alex tipped her head. “Wiccan’s Web Nora?”

Sam nodded, and Dean vocalized, “Yeah, that’s the one.” He set the grocery bag down on the table and walked over to his brother. “And I got nothing from local lore fifty miles in every direction of all of them,” he added sourly. “I mean, it’s like they’re just . . . old dirt. What’s Dick looking for?”

“It is possible that’s just all that they are?” Alex offered fruitlessly, pulling a six pack of beer out of the bottoms of one of the bags and carrying it over to the fridge. “I mean, maybe they’re just places he’s going to bury stuff. George — the Leviathan from Portland,” she explained when she saw the Winchesters turn in confusion. “He said that they were going to build, like, research centers or something. Maybe that’s all this is —” She cut off with a small hiss as her stomach rippled with pain, a harsh breath expelled from her nostrils.

“You okay?” Dean looked up, eyes dark with concern at the sight of the angel bent in pain. “Pip?”

“I’m fine.” Alex clenched her teeth, and then Lucifer’s grace came alive, curling around her own, and the angel’s eyes closed at the peace it brought to her own grace. “I’m fine,” she repeated, this time with more conviction. She saw Dean shrug and turn away, and she closed her eyes. Balthazar hadn't been lying when he had said heats were unpredictable the first few times.

The lights suddenly flickered, and the temperature dropped. Both Winchesters got to their feet, guns drawn, and then Bobby spoke. “Hey hey, go easy, you idjits,” he snapped when they pointed their guns at him. “Sorry for the jump scare.”

“So how does this all work, huh?” Dean’s voice was sharp to cover his agitation as he shoved his gun back into his pocket. “I leave the cap off and you genie your way out?” He picked up the flask and screwed the lid back on before tossing it back onto the couch.

“I wish it were that easy. The thing doesn’t work like —”

“Bobby?”

Sam’s voice cut over his words, and the ghost flickered to another corner of the room, letting out a curse. “Dammit. Not again.” Alex watched as he drew in a deep breath, and his form solidified, letting the Winchesters see him once again. “Dammit,” he repeated. “It’s hard to stay focused. I’m still pretty worn out.”

“You’ve been pretty busy for a dead guy,” Dean agreed, turning to face the hunter.

Bobby didn’t acknowledge the comment. “Alright, listen,” he said. “I-I don’t know how much longer before my next ghost nap, so let’s just skip to the skinny — those numbers I gave you.”

“The empty lot in Cheeseville?” Dean cocked an eyebrow, surprised that Bobby was bringing it up.

“Yeah, well, it ain’t gonna be empty for long,” the old hunter promised darkly. “I got a gander at Dick’s big plan right before he Lincolned me. They’re breaking ground —” He paused, looking around in confusion. “What month is it?”

“Uh — uh, April,” Sam supplied, and Bobby’s shoulders dropped.

“Ground’s broke. They’re building as we’re yammering. Check it out yourself.” Bobby motioned towards the table where Sam’s laptop sat, and the Winchester hurried forward to do what Bobby had said. “I mean,” Bobby continued rather pointedly, “you guys missed it because you’ve been kind of busy killing ghosts the past few days. But Dick is about to get into the Soylent Green business.”

“I have no idea what that means,” Alex admitted, feathers rustling as she gave an exaggerated shrug. “I’ll take it it’s not a good thing though.”

Bobby shook his head. “They say they’re building a biotech lab there, right?” he asked Sam. “Biotech my ass. That sucker is a state-of-the-art slaughterhouse. And we’re the beef.”

“Yeah. I believe I called that.” Alex held up a hand for a high five to Dean, but he didn’t seem to notice. The angel slowly ran that hand through her hair, gaze flitting to the ground and mouth clamping shut.

“Don’t you think that’s a little bold, even for Dick?” Dean asked the ghost skeptically, arms crossed and eyebrows quirked.

Bobby shook his head. “I bet no one will even notice, cause first he’s gonna dumb us all down with Turducken-style munchies. Make us docile.”

“Ugh.” Alex pulled a face at the memory, face scrunching up and tongue darting out from between her lips. “That sandwich was terrible. We haven’t been to Biggerson’s since.”

“Biggerson’s?” Bobby scoffed. “He bought a list of joints ten pages long.”

Dean reached out and lightly smacked Alex over the head. “Seriously? I thought you could taste that shit. Why haven’t you said anything?”

“Hey hey hey!” Alex batted his hand away. “Give me a break here! The last thing I ate were those god-awful tacos last Tuesday. Maybe you haven’t noticed, but I haven’t been eating that much recently.”

“Yeah, I, uh, noticed.” Dean stared at the angel, and Alex didn’t miss the concern at her statement that flashed through his eyes before he turned back to Bobby. “Uh, okay, so then what?”

“Then Dick’s going to cure us all.” The quirk in the ghost’s eyebrows relayed his disbelief.

Sam looked up from his laptop. “Cure us of what?”

“All the biggies — cancer, AIDs, heart disease.” When Alex made a small, questioning noise Bobby explained, “Let’s just say they got an affinity for stem cell research.”

“Yeah, uh, that Leviathan real estate mook’s building that cancer center in Portland.” Dean walked over to the fridge and pulled out a beer. “What was his name, uh —”

“George,” Alex cut in, rubbing the back of her head from where Dean had smacked her. The one downside of hunters was that they never could control their strength. “His name was George, I believe. I liked George.”

Dean rolled his eyes, and Bobby shook his head. “Anyways. They ain’t hunting anymore. They’re engineering the perfect herd. Now, we’ve gone up against plenty that liked to eat a few folks in the woods. This ain’t that.” Bobby’s voice rose. “This is about knocking us off the top of the food chain. This is about them Levis living here forever, one-percenter style, while we march our dopey, fat asses down to the shiny new death camps at every corner.”

“Yeah, I don’t think I like the sound of that —”

A ding cut the angel off, and she tipped her head in confusion, gaze turning to Sam Winchester. “It’s an email,” he explained, amber eyes darkening in confusion. “From . . . Frank.”

“Frank?” Alex repeated, just as confused. They hadn’t heard anything from Frank since back in Portland with the Leviathans, and after Dean’s multiple attempts to contact him, the three of them had just assumed the worst.

“Frank’s alive?” Dean hurried over to where Sam sat and slid into the seat next to him.

Bobby seemed less excited. “That jackass, always stealing my thunder,” he grumbled.

“ ‘Sam and Dean,’ ” Sam read, “ ‘if you’re reading this, I’m dead . . . or worse.” Alex’s eyes narrowed in sympathy as Sam continued “This email was sent because some prince is trying to hack into my hard drive right this second. So unless it’s you, you got trouble.’ ”

“Great.” Alex plopped down in the chair next to Dean, wings folding out over them in exasperation. “Just what we need; _another_ unrelated problem.”

Sam nodded, but his eye didn’t leave the email as he skimmed through its contents. “Um, okay,” he finally said. “Here. ‘My drive is full of compromising info. Your new aliases, hangouts, where you stored your car —’ ”

That made Dean sit up straight. “Baby?”

“Even though he says he encrypted the crap out of his drive, he says that we should assume someone will hack into it eventually,” Sam summarized, finally glancing up, although only momentarily, from his computer. “He did put a tracking device on it.”

“Okay, that’s good,” Alex nodded, glancing over at Bobby. He was standing behind Sam, arms crossed, a frown twisting his face. “So we know where the drive is?”

Sam nodded and clicked on something, and Alex watched as Dean leaned forward to see the screen. Then she watched as he fell back into his seat, shaking his head. “Perfect,” he muttered. “It’s in the middle of the Death Star.”

“What?” Those words made Alex get up, wings folding in as she circled around to lean over Sam’s shoulder. On the screen was a map of Chicago, with a small pin in the center titled, _Richard Roman Enterprises._ Her eyes widened with realization. “Oh shit.”

“Yeah. Alright, well, off to Chicago.” Dean slapped the table and stood up, moving to grab his jacket.

Bobby, however, protested. “No, wait, guys, you can’t just break in. They know your mugs.” The ghost snapped his fingers as an idea came to him. “What if we mailed the flask in? Then I could ghost the joint. I mean, it’s not like Dick can kill me twice.” When Sam and Alex glanced at each other he added angrily, “What? You got a better plan? Come on. Just because I’m dead doesn’t mean I don’t know how to do my damn job.”

“Bobby,” Sam slowly began, “that’s Dick’s office.”

The ghost frowned, and Dean stepped in. “I think what Sam’s trying to say is, what happens if you run into Dick and, you know . . .”

“Go vengeful,” Alex finished when Dean hesitated too long. “What then?”

“It’s not something you can just shake off,” Dean finished.

Bobby looked between Sam and Dean before his gaze swung over to Alex. “Come on,” he insisted. “Give me some credit. What, I’m supposed to just ride the pine?”

“Sorry, Bobby.” Sam moved to stand up, but suddenly stopped. “Hang on.” He went back to the email and clicked on a link. A tab popped up, and Alex cocked her head at what she saw. “What?” Sam voiced her own confusion.

A red-headed woman was on the screen, staring intently at something right below them. “Is that a webcam?” Alex put her hands on Sam’s shoulder as she leaned closer. “Is this the person hacking Frank’s drive?” She stared at the woman’s pale face, and something sparked in the back of her mind. “She looks familiar,” she finally admitted, leaning backwards when Sam’s head turned. “I don’t know anything else,” she quickly added, “it’s just that face. I feel like I’ve seen it before.”

“Well who is she?” Dean demanded, moving back over to the table and staring at the live feed.

Sam shook his head. “I can cross check it with the employees at the building,” he finally said. “See if there’s a match.”

Dean grunted, agreeing with his brother’s plan. “Can you do that in the car?” When Sam nodded, his brother clapped him on the back. “Good. Let’s go.”

 

**Chicago, Illinois**

**I** t was a little over a twenty four hour drive before Dean pulled the Buick up alongside the curb of the dusty old apartment building. “This is it,” Sam announced, closing his laptop. “Charlie Bradbury lives on the second floor, room 211.”

Dean nodded as he put the van into park. “Alright. Why don’t you and Alex go on up. I’ll stay here and keep watch. I’ll call if she comes your way, and then the four of us will have a little chat, huh?”

“Yeah, sounds good.” Sam threw open the door, and Alex scrambled over the front seats, letting out a squeak when Dean almost knocked her off balance because her legs came dangerously close to smacking him in the head. Sam steadied her as she got out of the van. “Careful.”

“Thanks, Sam.” Alex slammed the van door behind her and followed the hunter into the apartment building. “Okay, so what are we thinking? Leviathan? Or just an unsuspecting human in a Leviathan-packed company?”

“Hopefully the latter.” Sam led the way up the stairs and to the very end of the hall. “Here.” He paused beside the door, and then stepped back, letting Alex through.

Alex grunted her thanks and let her grace slide forward into the lock. The door clicked open, and Alex led the way inside. “Ooh, very nice.”

Straight in front of her was a bookcase-like structure, each shelf filled with bobbleheads of different theatrical characters; mainly Star Wars and Harry Potter, as Alex noted. She moved over to them and picked up a Darth Vader. “Hey.” Sam’s sharp voice had her turning in surprise. “Put that back before you break it.” Before Alex could think up a retort, Sam added, “Bedroom.” He pointed towards it and dropped his laptop onto the couch. “I’ll search for the drive here.”

“Yeah.” Alex crossed the room, listening as Sam locked the door behind them. “Good idea.” Her grace bubbled up again in protest as she walked away, but she pushed it down in frustration as a wave of heat swept through her. This felt worse than last time, stronger in intensity, but the angel couldn’t tell for sure.

The bedroom was as orderly and immaculate as the rest of the apartment, with vintage posters and more collectables. Alex nodded in approval as she reached out to touch a bobblehead of a tyrannosaurus rex standing on a platform that read _Jurassic Park_. She turned to return to the living room when Sam stepped in, a finger to his lips and his phone in his hands. “Dean called. She’s on her way up.”

Alex nodded, and she rolled her wings back as Sam shoved his phone into his pocket. A minute or two later she heard the door unlock and she let her grace slide forward and wrap around the human soul in the other room.

She heard the person scramble about, and heard her heart beating rapidly. A phone rang, and Alex slapped her pockets, feeling for her phone, stopping when she heard the person in the other room answer. The angel ducked her head in shame as she remembered that wasn’t even her ringtone. “Hey, Pete,” she heard Charlie say, slightly breathless, “sorry I left without telling you.” Alex’s wings curled forward in curiosity as she heard Charlie’s voice, its steadiness forced to mask the fear. “No, I just wasn’t . . . feeling well. It’s a . . . lady thing. I will be in first thing,” she promised after a short pause. “Got to go — cramps.”

Sam’s phone buzzed, and he looked down at it for only a second before showing the screen to Alex. _On my way up_ , it read from Dean. _What is she?_

Alex took the phone and typed out a hasty _Human_ and pressed send before handing the Winchester back his phone. Suddenly all noise in the other room stopped, and Alex felt her wings prickle as the silence lengthened.

Alex heard the front door open, and then it was slammed shut, and she hurried out when she heard Dean’s insistent voice. “It’s alright. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Alex slid to a stop at the sight of the redheaded woman from the feed, only this time she looked terrified and was wielding a plastic sword. “Get away from me you . . . shapeshifter!” she yelled.

Sam pushed past Alex. “Look,” he started, “we’re not shapeshifters —” He was cut off when the woman swung the sword into his side. The Winchester flinched and the sword broke in half. “Geez!”

Dean wrenched the broken sword out of Charlie’s hands and threw it behind him. “Look, we’re not Leviathans, okay?” he snapped, temper getting the better of him as his patience grew thin. “You want us to prove it? You know what borax does to them?” He held up a bottle of Power Clean.

Charlie nodded. “Y-Yeah.”

“Sam?” Dean unscrewed the lid as his brother held out his hand, and the hunter poured the borax onto his brother’s palm. He did the same to himself before motioning to Alex. “Hand.” When the angel snorted in indignity, he motioned insistently and added, “Come on, don’t be a baby about it.” When Alex relented, he poured the chemical over the back of her hand and turned to Charlie. “Alright, your turn.”

Alex busied herself wiping her hand off on the back of her jeans. “She’s not one of them,” she reminded as Charlie held out her hand, taking a moment to swipe her gaze across the woman. She had on a lavender -colored Leia t-shirt under a pink and lavender jacket. Navy green cargo pants were tucked into black combat boots. Borax dripped onto them as she poured some onto her skin, and Alex rolled her eyes, grumbling out a “told you so,” before raising her voice. “Where’s Frank’s drive?”

Charlie looked between the three of them, eyes wide and voice high. “Who the hell are you guys?” she finally said, some of her confidence coming back.

“Hunters,” Alex said bluntly, wings flicking in acknowledgement when she noticed Bobby standing behind Dean. “Monster hunters, specifically. Right now we’re hunting down Leviathans. They’re big, mean sons of bitches.” She watched as Charlie’s face paled, and added, “And it sounds like you’ve heard about them. Should we sit down? Let’s sit down.” She pointed at herself. “I’m Alex. Sam, Dean.” She pointed at the Winchesters in turn before leading the way into the sitting area.

“S-So you guys are monster hunters?” Charlie asked as Alex sat down across from Sam. Dean sat beside her as the woman continued, “So, there are other monsters?” Alex slowly raised her hand, but Dean reached out, pushing it back into her lap as Charlie screwed her eyes shut. “Stop! Never mind. Just shh.” She opened her eyes back up and took a deep, calming breath, and her voice grew strong as she finally asked, “Okay. I get how you tracked the drive — straight GPS — but it’s still at the office. How did you find _me_?”

In response, Sam cleared his throat and opened up his laptop, letting the video feed from the webcam start to replay. Charlie’s voice rose in indignation and disbelief. “Aw! That son of a gun jacked my webcam!”

Dean shrugged. “Welcome to Frank.”

“It’s creepy, but I’ll give it to him.” Charlie crossed her arms. “So what I’m hearing is that everything on his drive was true.”

“And then some,” Alex agreed.

“Wait.” Sam leaned forward in his chair curiously. “How long did it take you to crack into Frank’s hard drive?”

“A day or so.” The redhead gave small shrug as if it were no big feat, and Alex raised her eyebrows in amazement. She hadn’t personally met Frank, but had heard enough to know that that drive must have been encrypted as hell.

Sam shared in her surprise. “Is there anything you _can’t_ hack into?”

“Not yet.”

“What about Dick Roman’s email?”

Charlie’s eyes narrowed as she was met with Sam’s request. “Why would I . . . Oh.” Her eyes went wide again in realization. “He’s one of them.”

“No,” Sam corrected. “He’s their leader.”

“So what’s the end game?” Charlie asked. “Steal our resources, make us some slaves?”

Alex snorted at the innocence of her comments, and Dean shook his head. “Planet-wide value meal. We’re the meat.”

“You can’t be . . . serious.” Charlie smiled in disbelief as she looked at all three, but they remained dead serious. “Okay,” she nodded, moving around to the table where her laptop lay. “Alright. Let’s do this.” She flipped it open and sat down. “What am I looking for?”

“Well, for starters,” Dean began, “anything about archeological dig sites.”

Charlie glanced up from her screen. “Like Indiana Jones stuff?” she questioned.

“All we know is that Dick has been digging all over the world, and we need to know what he’s looking for.” Dean looked over at Alex when the angel bent forward, confusion on his face. “You okay, Pip?”

“I’m fine.” Alex’s wings curled around her at the sharp flash that cut through her grace, and she closed her eyes. Lucifer’s grace swelled up again, calming her back down, and the angel opened her eyes back up as the heat faded into the background. “Really, I’ll live.”

Dean’s face proved that he wasn’t convinced, but Charlie’s voice distracted him. “You know, I was having a really good week. I met someone, downloaded the new Robyn album. Don’t hate,” she added when Alex snorted. “Everything was coming up for me — oh, crap.”

“Look, we get that it sucks —”

“No, not that.” Charlie cut Sam off. “This.” She motioned to her screen. “Dick’s email isn’t on the company server. It’s on a private one, in his office.”

“Meaning?”

“Can’t get in unless you have his phone or you’re at his desk,” the woman expounded, her frown deepening.

Sam and Dean exchanged looks before Dean said, “So you’re saying that if we’re inside Dick’s office, then we can hack into his email?”

“I could fly us in,” Alex suggested, “you know, if I could fly. Or if I wasn’t in heat— ow! Stop hitting me, you asshole!” She batted Dean’s hand away, rubbing her head with a scowl.

“You’re in heat?” Dean snapped. “Seriously? Why didn’t you tell us?”

“Cause it doesn’t exactly concern you,” the angel retorted. “The only reason I brought it up was because those Leviathans would probably be able to smell me, and I don’t want to go in with a target on my back! Besides,” she added, “it only started yesterday. Give me a break.”

“Wait wait wait. Heat? What the hell are you talking about?” Charlie looked up sharply in surprise, obviously not believing what she was hearing.

“Oh yeah.” Alex stood up with a small smile. “Alex. Angel of the lord.” She snapped her grace out, and lightning flashed, lighting up the room and her wings.

Charlie gasped, eyes going wide. Alex smirked and suddenly hands were around her wrist, tugging her back down onto the couch. “Don’t do the wing thing,” Dean whispered fiercely.

“I like the wing thing,” Alex hissed back, wrenching herself free and plopping down on the couch with a huff.

“What . . . is going on here?” Charlie’s eyes were still wide, still not fully believing what she had seen. “You’re joking, right?”

“I’m actually an angel,” Alex promised. “Which is yet another reason I shouldn’t be walking into Roman’s office. Angel wings happen to be a delicacy for those black-blooded bitches, and I’d prefer to keep mine on my back.”

That didn’t seem to help Charlie’s anxiety. “So be honest,” she finally said. “What are the chances that I see everything on that drive and Dick lets me live anyways?”

“I think you know.”

Charlie blinked. “So, I erase the drive first, protect you and me. Then I go back to my old life, right?” She watched as the Winchesters looked at each other, and her voice grew sharp with worry. “What?”

“It’s not that easy.” Dean shook his head and leaned forward in his seat. “You’re on Dick’s radar, which means you don’t have an old life anymore.”

“I’m going to die.” The woman’s shoulders fell. “I should have taken that job at Google.”

Sam let out a sympathetic breath. “Look, Charlie, it’s okay if you can’t do it. I mean, you didn’t volunteer for this.”

“Totally,” Charlie agreed, nodding enthusiastically. “Exactly.” She took a deep breath before adding, “But now I volunteer.”

“What?” Alex and Sam spoke simultaneously, and the angel’s wings twitched in confusion at the sudden change in events.

“I got to get back in to wipe Frank’s hard drive,” Charlie explained. “Might as well break into Dick’s office as well.”

“Are you sure?” Dean asked, voice lined with guarded hope.

“No.” Charlie’s green eyes flickered with fear, but her voice remained confident. “But these things are going to eat everyone I know. What kind of douchebag stands by for that?” Charlie questioned, and Dean nodded his head approvingly. “However, I’ve never broken into anything in real life before, so . . . plan?”

Alex grinned. “Don’t worry. We’re pretty good at that kind of stuff.” She stood up when Sam did, and followed him around the table.

“You got a Bluetooth?” Dean asked, moving to join them. Charlie nodded, and Dean paused behind Alex, looking over her shoulder. “Security system — can you get into that?”

“I can reroute any surveillance cameras we need,” Charlie agreed, and Alex made an impressed noise.

“That’s good,” a voice said, and Alex looked up in confusion to see Bobby Singer standing behind Dean. Neither of the Winchesters turned, so Alex flicked a wing at him, urging him to continue. “If you can put the cameras on a loop you’ll be able to buy her enough time to get into Dick’s office.”

“If we put the cameras on a loop, we can buy Charlie enough time to get into Dick’s office,” Alex repeated, and was rewarded by a small pat on the shoulder from Dean.

“Good idea. Let’s start with that.”

“Do you have a keycard to get into the building?” Sam asked from Charlie’s other side.

The woman nodded. “Uh, yeah. I can’t duplicate it, but I can make a fake backing so that the reader won’t recognize it as mine.” She looked up at Sam. “Why, do you have a plan?”

“Yeah, I think I do.”

 

 **A** lex adjusted her weight in the stool for the umpteenth time in the last ten minutes. She was with the Winchesters in the back of an Chi-City Electrics van they had “borrowed” earlier that evening, and were not parked in front of Richard Roman Enterprises. The angel glanced at Charlie’s laptop to see the live security feed from the building; in the top right corner was the outside of the front door; as she watched Charlie Bradbury stepped into view.

“How’s it going?” Dean asked, walking up to them and leaning over Alex’s shoulder, coffee in hand.

“Great,” Sam acknowledged, “considering she set it all up for me.” He pointed to the computer screen. “See this? I can put each camera on a pre-recorded loop. Once I do that, I’ll have fifteen minutes.”

Alex felt Dean’s frown against her ear. “Fifteen minutes ain’t a lot of time,” he fretted.

“No.” his brother agreed, turning his head to look up at Dean. “She said if it took longer to hack his desktop, she deserved to be eaten.”

Dean nodded. “I like her,” he decided.

“Me too.” Alex leaned back in her stool when Dean went to go sit in his own. “And I don’t normally like people, so that’s a real compliment.” She laughed when Dean rolled his eyes at her before turning back to the screen.

She opened her mouth to expound further on her joke, but Dean quickly cut her off as he leaned forward, and his voice grew serious. “Wait. Is that . . . son of a bitch.”

“What?” Sam and Alex both sounded confused, and Dean pointed at the screen where Charlie stood, her work bag slung across her shoulder.

“Look at the bag,” he instructed, and Sam clicked on the camera feed, letting it fill the entire screen. Alex could make out, sitting tucked in the side pocket, Bobby’s flask, and her face darkened. That’s where the hunter had gone; she had just thought that he was taking one of his “naps.”

“Bobby.” Sam looked up at his brother. “Wait. Y-You think he, uh —”

“Hitched a ride after we told him to cool his jets?” Dean finished angrily. “Yeah. What the hell was he thinking?” He glanced over at Alex. “I thought you could see him all the time!”

“I-I can, most of the time,” Alex protested. “It’s just sometimes he does this thing where he doesn’t materialize in any wavelengths, and he really isn’t conscious and I honestly don’t know how it works, okay? I’m totally new to this ghost thing, and it’s kind of freaking me out and it’s really exhausting to keep seeing him —”

Sam put a hand on her shoulder as she ran out of breath, and the angel cut herself off, tearing her gaze from Dean and putting it back on the screen. The warm, comforting hand disappeared — Alex’s grace protested at that, but she quelled it — and Sam turned back to his brother. “So what do we do?” he asked, getting back to the important topic. “Call the whole thing off?”

Dean firmly shook his head. “We’ve only got one shot at this,” he insisted and pulled out his phone. “Charlie, it’s Dean,” he said, holding the phone out so the others could hear. A soft, melodic hum came through, too low for Alex to make out any words, but it had Dean raising his eyebrows. “Are you singing?”

The noise stopped. “I sing when I’m nervous,” Charlie finally said defensively. “Don’t judge me.”

“Judgement free zone,” Dean promised. “Listen, uh, check the side pocket in your bag.”

Alex watched as Charlie did just that, eyes lighting up as she pulled the flask free. “Oh, thank you.” She unscrewed the lid and took a drink. “Mmm. Good idea.”

Dean and Sam looked at each other. “Yeah,” Dean finally said, “no problem. Look, that’s, uh, kind of a family heirloom. It’s a good luck charm, so don’t lose it.”

“Copy that.” Alex watched as Charlie nodded before tucking the flask back into her bag. “Okay, let’s do this.” Alex narrowed her eyes when the woman didn’t move on the screen, and as the silence dragged on, her frown deepened.

“Uh, Charlie?” Dean finally asked. Charlie didn’t respond, and he repeated himself with more force. “Charlie?”

“I’m having a hard time moving,” Charlie finally admitted, the faintest amount of fear and trepidation creeping into her tone.

“You can do this,” Dean promised, eyes flickering over to his brother when Charlie shook her head.

“Uh, I’m not — I’m not a spy.” The panic in her voice grew. “No, I can’t do it. I can’t do it. I can’t do it. I can’t.”

Dean shook his head, momentarily at a loss, and Sam took the opportunity to take the phone away from his brother. “Charlie,” he began, “hey, it’s Sam.”

“I’m sorry, Sam, I’m sorry,” came the rushed answer. “I-I can’t —”

Sam cut her off. “It’s okay. Uh, listen,” he continued, hazel eyes turning to meet Alex’s, “w-who’s your favorite Harry Potter character?” His eyebrows raised slightly when Alex tipped her head in confusion, and the angel shrugged, curious as to where this was going to go.

“Uh, Hermione.” The answer came quickly, as if it were quite obvious, and Sam nodded.

“Hermione,” he repeated. “Well, uh, alright, did Hermione run when Sirius Black was in trouble or when Voldemort attacked Hogwarts?”

“Seriously?” Dean scoffed.

“Shut up.” Sam turned in his seat away from Dean, and his brother fell silent with a roll of his eyes.

“No,” Charlie finally said, “of course not.”

“What did she do?”

“She… kicked ass. Actually, she saves Harry in practically every book.” Charlie’s voice was growing steadier, and Alex looked at the laptop screen to see that she was starting to relax in her stance, growing more confident with each word. Then her voice grew exasperated. “And then she ends up with the wrong —”

Sam cut in. “Uh, stay on track.” He cleared his throat and continued, “Okay, so she kicked ass, right? So then, what are you going to do?”

“I’m going to kick ass.” Charlie turned and marched into the building, disappearing from the screen.

“Good girl.”

Sam handed the phone back to Dean, who rolled his eyes. “You go, Dumbledork.”

Alex, on the other hand, was more vocal about it. “Hey hey! Up high!” She raised her hand, and Sam gave her a high five before he turned back to the screen and let the image shrink back into the five different feeds. “Who’s your favorite character?” the angel pressed. “I think mine’s the Basilisk. Then again, I haven’t seen the movies or read the books in a really long time. Maybe this summer we could—”

“Shh.” Sam quieted her by putting a hand on her arm, and the angel’s grace hummed at the contact; however, Lucifer’s grace protested, and Alex rolled her eyes. Sam withdrew his hand, and she watched as Charlie made her way through the lobby and into the elevator.

“I don’t like this,” Alex finally said, leaning forward in her stool as her wings spread outwards. “It doesn’t feel right, sending her in alone.” Dean made a noise of agreement, and the angel continued. “If there was some way to smoke out into another body and hide my wings from them, I’d go in, but that’s basically an impossibility. Plus the Leviathans probably know everything about me thanks to Cas.”

“How’s he doing, by the way?” Dean looked over at her. “I mean, Meg still says he’s in a coma, but maybe you’ve, I don’t know . . .”

“Felt something? Heard something? No.” Alex shook her head as a long sigh left her lips. “The only things I’ve heard have been from Luce, and while he won’t lie to me, it’s not a topic he enjoys discussing. Cas is still holding on, though.” She shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe I’ll take a nap when this all blows over. The more Lucifer’s distracted by me, the less time he spends beating Cas to a pulp.”

She let her monologue die when Charlie reached the fourth floor. The moment she stepped out of the elevator Sam pressed a key, putting the elevator camera on a pre-recorded loop. “And we’ve lost visual,” the angel muttered.

“You’re on the clock,” Dean said into the phone. “Move.” He set the phone back down on the small little shelf they were sitting in front of and turned back to Alex. “You sure that’s a good idea?” he warned. “I mean, he’s, you know, the devil.”

“He’s not that bad once you get to know him,” Alex defended, surprised to find herself a little insulted. “Well, he doesn’t really like the two of you, but that’s understandable, considering you did throw him back into hell and all.”

“Well, yeah,” Dean reluctantly agreed, “but still. The devil’s the devil. He got that name for a reason.”

The young angel shook her head, not really in the mood for this talk right now. “Look. Whatever is between us, it doesn’t really matter, okay? When it boils down, Cas is my mate, and Lucifer’s where he belongs, safely locked away. I just . . . after seeing this side of him, it’s hard to just let him rot alone in some prison.”

“You saw what he did to Sam!” Dean snapped, and Alex’s wings flared out in indignation, grey eyes flashing.

“I didn’t say he should be set free,” she retorted, “and I did _everything_ I could to keep Sam safe! But right now, Lucifer is helping me. That’s what’s important.”

Their conversation was cut short when Charlie’s voice came through the phone. “Uh, guys? Sorry to interrupt, but there’s a big-ass guard up here, blocking the door. What do I do?”

“Just wait him out,” Dean instructed, picking up the phone, and Alex shook her wings out to relieve some of the tension they held. She picked up a loose nail on the shelf, sullenly mesmerized by how it was almost the same length as her thumb as she felt the Winchesters’ gazes on her.

There was a pause before Charlie’s voice was back. “He’s not going anywhere,” she insisted, voice terse.

“Okay, uh,” Dean looked over at his brother, who just shrugged. “you work there everyday. Do you know the guy?”

“I guess,” the woman admitted. “I mean, I’ve seen him. I never talk to him.”

Dean nodded; he could work with that. “Okay, when you see him, does he look at you, or does he just kind of slide his eyes by?”

“Um . . . eye contact?” came the reply. “I don’t know. He kind of smiles a bit. I don’t really —”

“Good.” Dean cut her off. “What you’re going to do is you’re gonna walk right on up to him, and you’re going to flirt your way past.”

“I can’t. He’s not my type.”

Dean leaned forward in his seat. “You’re gonna have to play through that.”

“As in he’s not a _girl_.”

Silence. Alex looked over at the Winchesters, who were as shocked as she was. “Oh,” Dean finally got out, and he gave a quick nod. “Oh. Uh, pretend he has boobs.”

Alex rolled her eyes, and Charlie answered with a wince, “Worse.”

“Well, I don’t know.” Dean seemed to be at a loss, but was still scrambling for ideas. “Um . . . do you have any tattoos? Give him a sneak peak.” The hunter let out a grin. “All tattoos are sexy.”

“Mine is of Princess Leia in a slave bikini straddling a twenty-sided die.” Dean and Sam exchanged looks, and Charlie, sensing the silence, immediately defended, “I was drunk. It was Comic Con.”

“We’ve all been there,” Dean half-promised.

“Now I’m kind of curious,” Alex said casually, turning in her stool to lean against the ledge. “Generally not a fan, but part of me kind of wants to see that tattoo.” Her eyes narrowed in confusion when Dean suddenly shoved the phone into her hands. “Hey hey hey! What?”

“You’re a girl.” Dean motioned to the phone with a flick of his hand. “You talk her through flirting with a guy.”

“When have I ever been good at flirting?” Alex threw the phone back at Dean, who’s reflexes caught it instinctively. “Seriously! Name one time. You — you’re a guy, you know what guys like! You talk her through it.”

Sam held up his hands in a gesture of innocence, and Dean glowered at the both of them. “You fucking owe me,” he warned, pointing straight at the angel before picking up the phone. “Charlie. You still there? I’m going to walk you through this, okay? Start with a smile.”

Alex heard the sound of a door opening, and she frowned when she heard the woman’s heavy breathing. “Relax,” she said, leaning closer to the phone.

Dean put a hand on her forehead and pushed her away, clearly still a little pissed. “Relax, Charlie,” he reiterated. “You just got home, and Scarlett Johansson’s waiting for you.”

Alex heard the breathing slow into a more eased, natural rhythm, and she nodded. “Can I help you, miss?” came the new voice, the security guard most likely.

“Introduce yourself,” Dean instructed.

“Hey . . . Bill,” Charlie said. “Charlie from I.T.”

“Oh.” The guard’s voice fell into a more casual cadence as he recognized the woman. “Burning the midnight oil, huh?”

“Just like you,” Dean said. “I mean, when you’re not at the gym.” He waited until Charlie had repeated him before adding, “What, do you work out with all your free time?”

Bill let out a chuckle. “I try and get to the gym at least three days a week,” he explained. “Just trying to get back to my fighting weight, you know?”

“It shows,” Dean agreed wholeheartedly. “You look amazing.” He glanced back at Sam and Alex. “This never happened,” he murmured pointedly before turning back to the phone, his voice rising slightly in pitch as he resumed coaching. “Do you do anything else with your free time, like take a girl out for a drink?”

Charlie echoed him, but Alex barely noticed, too busy biting back a laugh. Sam wasn’t as successfully, and let out a short laugh.

“Stop laughing, Sammy,” Dean muttered.

“Stop laughing, Sammy,” Charlie repeated. Alex smacked Sam over the head, chuckling out a “shh” when the woman tripped up. “Um . . .” Charlie stuttered, “y-you don’t know that bar? Stop Laughing Sammy?” Dean shot them a glare when Sam put a hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter, and Charlie kept on stumbling. “That place is bringing sexy back. Which is easy —”

“Stop talking, Charlie!” Dean snapped.

“— cause they kept the receipt. Stop talking, Charlie.” Charlie stopped talking, and Dean rolled his eyes. “Right.”

“So, you were saying about going out for a drink?” Dean began again, still glaring at his brother and the angel when Charlie began stammering out what Dean had said.

“Um . . . yeah,” Bill still seemed to be interested. “Yeah. That’d be great.”

“Cool.” Dean’s voice had a grin to it, but he was still glaring at his brother. “Pencil that in.” He turned back to the phone as Charlie finished those lines. “Hey, can I ask you a favor? The ladies’ room downstairs is nasty. Can I use the exec washroom to powder my nose?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bill agreed. “Why not? Um, it’s right down the hall. It’s the first door on the right.”

A couple seconds later, Charlie finally spoke again. “I feel dirty,” she muttered, and Alex snorted in amusement.

Dean ran a hand through his hair. “You and me both, sister.”

“The eagle is landing.” Alex heard a door thud closed. “Going radio-silent.”

“Let us know when you’re out.” The line went dead, and Dean snapped the phone shut, tapping it against his chin anxiously.

“So I guess we just . . . wait?” Sam finally said.

“Yeah.” Dean tossed the phone onto the ledge next to Sam’s laptop. “I guess so.” When Sam got up he slid the laptop closer to him, staring intently at the video feed.

Alex watched as Sam picked up a jar and started filling it with borax, and she ran a hand across the top of her head, but didn’t dare speak, letting the tense silence fill the van.

 

 **“W** ell, this is awesome.” Dean broke the silence a few minutes later, startling Alex out of her thoughts. Sam looked up from where he was still filling jars, and Dean continued. “You know what? New plan. From now on, we just stay in the van and send in the ninety pound girl.”

“Dean, every chomper on earth knows our face,” Sam reminded, sliding his stool over to his brother. “How many do you think are in that building? We wouldn’t make it past the lobby.”

“Yeah, I know,” Dean grumbled. “Doesn’t mean I have to be happy about sending in fucking Veronica Mars.”

“She’ll be fine,” Sam promised. “If not . . . we go in.”

“And get as far as we can,” Dean finished. “Damn right.”

Alex snorted. “You’re both mad,” she told them crossly. “Don’t get me wrong; I like Charlie, but there’s a bigger picture here. If Charlie dies, that sucks, and I’m sorry. If we die, there’s no one to stop the Leviathans.”

The Winchesters fell into silence, and Alex twitched her wings.

 

 **“H** ey, guys.” Charlie’s voice had all three snapping to attention, and Dean scrambled for the phone.

“Hey,” he said back, casting a relieved glance back at his brother.

“Sending you all the flagged dig files right now,” the woman announced, and Alex watched as Sam grinned.

“Charlie,” he laughed, “you are a genius!”

“I know. It’s a problem.” Charlie suddenly drew in a sharp breath, and Alex leaned forward when she heard her mutter, “Dammit.” Her voice rose into a forced cheerfulness. “Hey, Pete. Guess we’re both on a deadline, huh?”

“How’s it going?” That must be Pete. Alex wrinkled her nose at the sound of his voice. She didn’t think she liked Pete.

By the sound of it, Charlie didn’t like him much either. In fact, if the fear in her voice was anything to go by, she seriously didn’t like Pete. “Good, good,” the woman on the other end of the line got out. “I’ll give you a full progress report in a few hours.”

“Great,” Pete agreed. “Hit that deadline, right?” Alex heard Charlie take in a sharp breath, and her wings flared out, and then Pete said, “Well, holler if you need anything.”

Three, tense seconds passed before Charlie spoke again, voice low. “Hey guys, you still there?”

“Yeah.” Dean nodded, bringing the phone up to his lips, a frown on his face. “Who the hell was that?”

“Oh, just my manager, the monster.” Charlie’s voice was dark, and Alex heard a chair squeak as the woman sat down in it.

She glanced over at Dean, wings flaring out, and Dean tightened his grip on the phone. “Leave,” he commanded forcefully.

“I can’t,” Charlie retorted. “I got to act normal. I told him I was working. Let’s just finish this.” Several emails popped up on the laptop in front of Sam, and Alex turned her attention to them. “Are you seeing this?” Charlie asked.

“It looks like Dick stopped digging days ago,” Sam agreed, loud enough for the woman to hear him through the phone from where he sat. Dean shifted himself and the phone closer.

Charlie sounded confused. “Why?”

“Guess he found what he was looking for.” Dean said as his brother scrolled through the emails. “Can you check?”

“Way ahead of you,” came the response. “Looking at travel reports, expenses . . . here we go. Something in his suitcase left Iran last week,” the woman relayed. “Spent the last seventy two hours in armored cars and private planes. Whatever it is, it’s coming here for Dick tonight.” Charlie stopped, and finally asked. “So, w-what the hell is it?”

“We don’t know,” Dean admitted when both Alex and Sam shook their heads. “Whatever it is, he wants it bad, which means we gotta grab it, end of story.”

“Well it’s landing at a private airport near here — shit. Right about now. A courier’s set to pick it up.”

Sam and Dean exchanged looks. “What’s the exact landing time?” Dean demanded.

“Forty-two minutes,” Charlie replied. “Can you make it?”

“We can try.” Dean scratched his head. “Uh, Charlie, one more favor, and then get out of there.”

There was a short pause, and then came Charlie’s answer. “What do you need?”

“More time.”

“Then let me get you some.” Alex heard the clicking of the keyboard, and the woman began to narrate what she was doing. “Travel department’s e-mailing Dick. Suitcase still en-route, but diverted by weather and will be thirty minutes late.” Alex heard the chair squeak as Charlie stood. “I’ll finish mopping you guys off of the drive and get the hell out of Dodge.”

Dean nodded. “Good. Call us when you’re clear,” he instructed.

“Text you from the border, bro.” Charlie hung up, and Dean closed the phone and shoved it into his pocket.

Alex was the first to speak. “You two should go and get the suitcase,” she decided. “I’ll stay here in the van and keep an eye on Charlie in case things start going south.” She held a finger to her lips when Sam opened his mouth. “Chances are Leviathans can tell I’m an angel. They can probably see my wings; I don’t know. It’s better for me to stay hidden.”

Sam nodded. “Smart,” he praised. “And you’re right. We should keep someone here.” He grabbed two of the jars of borax. “Think you can handle it? With your heat and all,” he quickly added when Alex’s eyes narrowed in indignation.

“I’ll be fine,” Alex promised, arms crossed. “Go, go. I’ve got things here.” She waited until the Winchesters had exited the van before she plopped back down in her stool. She pulled her phone out of her pocket and sent a quick text to her contact named “Charlie.” _Winchesters went for the package. I’m back up if you need it. -A_

_I’ll be out soon._

Alex stared at her phone for a few more seconds, and when no other reply came, tossed it next to the laptop and turned her attention to the security feed.

 

 **S** he wasn’t sure how much time passed; thirty minutes or so, if she had to guess, although it was probably more. It wasn’t until there was a resounding knock on the back of the van that Alex tore her gaze from the screen. Her head tipped curiously as her grace crept outwards, immediately drawing back as she felt who lay outside

Leviathan. Two, actually.

“Hello?” she called, slowly reaching out to grab the borax jars on the shelf. “Chi-City Electronics. How can I help you?” She unscrewed the lid, muscles tense as she waited for the creatures to burst in.

One Leviathan chuckled. “Is that the angel?” he asked, a predatory tone in his voice. “Well well well. Imagine that. Come on out, sweetheart. We won’t bite.”

“Like hell you won’t,” Alex retorted. “So you’re some of the fuckers that were holed up inside of my mate, huh? You want me? Come on inside.” She wrapped her fingers around a machete leaning against the wall, grace unlocking the van door as the Leviathan pulled it open, jar of borax ready.

The creatures screamed and hissed as the chemical was flung at their faces, and Alex lunged forward, machete cutting through the first’s neck while she tackled the other Leviathan to the ground. It writhed beneath her as she sank her blade into its throat, slicing downwards until the spinal cord was severed. “Fuck you,” she growled, getting back to her feet, kicking the head out of the way. “That’s for Cas.”

Another growl echoed through her chest as her grace swelled at the mention of her mate, and she stepped back, leaning against the van door as she waited for it to subside. Once again Lucifer’s grace dutifully calmed her down, rolling in a gentle and pacifying motion, and the machete clattered to the ground as she ran a hand through her hair, wiping away the perspiration that sat on her brow. “Damn heat,” she muttered before she stooped to gather the heads.

Not sure what else to do, she tossed the heads into a cardboard box in the van before she dragged the bodies across the street. A red Subaru Forester sat there, and with a shrug of her shoulders, Alex unlocked the trunk with her grace and piled the bodies inside. She slammed the trunk closed when she was done, brushing off her hands. Someone was going to have a nice surprise tomorrow.

Her phone rang just as she was returning to the van. “Dean,” she greeted. “Hey. Did you get the package?”

“Yeah.” Dean didn’t seem overly pleased. “The currier just left with a different suitcase. Dick’ll be in for a surprise when he opens that up.”

“Oh?”

“Borax bomb. A little something I rigged up on the drive over.” Alex could hear the pride in the hunter’s voice, and she gave a small smile. However, the pride was quickly replaced by concern. “How are you guys doing? No trouble?”

“Two Levis came by knocking on the van door, but I took care of them.” Alex crawled back into the van and closed the door behind her. “Just hurry up and get back here, would you? Charlie’s still inside, and I’m getting a little worried.”

“We’ll be back in thirty minutes,” Dean promised, voice dark. “If anything happens, get her out, you understand?”

Alex frowned at the idea; however, she gave a curt nod. “Of course,” she promised. “But you have to promise me that if anything does happen, you two won’t come in after me. There’s no point in getting all of us killed. Besides . . . someone has to look out for Cas when he wakes up.”

Alex heard a small scuffle, and then Sam’s voice came over the phone. “You’re not going to die, Pip. You’ll be fine.”

Alex snorted in amusement that he would even presume such a thing. “Oh, trust me, I have no intention of dying. I’m just saying, if things _do_ go south . . .” She shook her head. “Never mind. I don’t even know why I bothered bringing this up,” she teased. “No matter what I say, you two would probably just run in there like chickens with their heads cut off.”

Sam didn’t seem to find her joke humorous. “That’s because we care about you, Pip.”

“I’m just saying that if I’m going to die, I don’t want to drag the both of you to your deaths as well. Just let me die.” The angel shook her head once again, mentally cursing herself for getting herself into this situation.. “You know what? It doesn’t matter. I’m not going to die, Sam. Sorry I brought this up, but this is a hole I can dig myself back into another day. Drive safe; I’ll get in touch with Charlie.”

She tried Charlie’s phone, but when she didn’t answer the angel didn’t try again, instead leaning back in her stool. “You better be okay,” she muttered to no one in particular. “If you’re not, the Winchesters are going to _kill_ me.”

 

 **I** t was ten full minutes later before Alex’s phone rang. The angel jumped to get it, almost hitting her head on the roof of the van. “Charlie? Thank God. Where are you?”

“You gotta get me out of here!” came the breathless reply. “Please, you gotta get me out!”

“Charlie, get to the door!” Alex hung up and grabbed the last jar of borax in one hand, a machete in the other. She sprang out of the van and booked it up to the large, glass building. She didn’t slow down, even when she heard the door click as it locked, and at the very last moment she wrapped her wings around herself, protecting her body as she crashed through the glass door.

Glass flew in every direction as the angel hit the ground, rolling with her shoulder and using her momentum to spring back to her feet. Charlie was running across the lobby; her green eyes were wide and dilated with fear, and her face was pale.

Behind her were two Leviathan, quickly gaining. Suddenly Bobby materialized, his body pale and slightly transparent. The first Leviathan couldn’t see him, and Bobby shoved the Leviathan aside; Alex’s wings flared out when the man collided into Charlie, knocking her into a pillar and then to the ground.

Dick Roman slid to a stop, and Alex stepped forward, a snarl forming on her face as a hiss escaped her lips, and her wings flared up and out, arching high above her head, feathers ruffling to make her seem bigger. The Leviathan narrowed his eyes, more irritated that intimidated. “You again.”

Bobby rushed forward, shoving Dick Roman back, and the Leviathan stumbled, falling backwards with a noise of surprise. Footsteps behind her had Alex spinning, eyes glowing with fire as Lucifer’s grace took control, boiling up, but she immediately reeled it back in when she recognized the two familiar -- albeit shocked -- faces.

“Dean!” Charlie’s cry had the hunter’s tearing their gazes from Alex’s face, and the angel turned away in embarrassment. “He’s one of them!”

Alex heard Pete scream in pain as borax hit his skin, but the angel’s attention was solely focused on Dick Roman. She shifted closer to Dean, hiding her friend behind her as the Leviathan pulled himself to his feet. “That would explain it,” Dick decided, looking dangerously over at Charlie. “You’re hanging with the wrong crowd, kiddo.”

Roman stepped forward, and Alex growled, but the Leviathan only stopped when Bobby flickered slightly, growing more opaque as he became visible to everyone else. “Not so fast, Dick.” Bobby shoved the Leviathan, sending the monster flying through the air and into a display picture several feet behind him. The Leviathan hit the ground with a grunt, the wind momentarily knocked out of him. Bobby’s form faded, disappearing from the humans’ sight.

Dick Roman let out a growl, slowly pulling himself into a sitting position, his suit wrinkled and tie askew. He looked around, eyes dark with anger. “Alright, enough!” he demanded, voice deep with authority. “Show yourself! Let’s do this like  _ real _  monsters!” He tried to get to his feet, but Bobby pushed him back down to the ground. 

Alex turned, shoving Dean towards the door. “Let’s go!” she snapped, watching as Sam carried Charlie out of the broken glass. The redhead was cradling her left arm, holding it tight against her chest. 

Sam placed her in the backseat of the Buick Rendezvous, and Alex slid in beside her as both Winchesters got into the front seat. She drew her wings in tight when Bobby appeared between her and Charlie, and the angel shifted further toward the door to give him more room. Dean started the car, and they peeled out onto the street. “Charlie, talk to us!” Dean insisted. “You okay?”

“No,” Charlie got out. “Why didn’t you kill him?” 

“Cause we can’t yet,” Sam stated bluntly. “But we will.” 

“The really evil ones always need a special sword,” Charlie told them, and Alex tipped her head to the side at her strange saying. “Oh, okay. I’m gonna pass out now.” Charlie tipped to the side and into Alex’s lap, and the angel gently pushed her grace against her. 

“She’s okay,” Alex finally told the Winchesters. “Her arm is broken, but that’s all. She’s fine.” 

“What the hell happened back there?” Dean snapped, tension running high as he looked back at her through the rearview mirror. 

“Charlie called me and said she needed to get out. I ran in there, broke through the door, but Bobby did all the work. That’s all I know, okay? It’s not that —”

“Not that. What the fuck happened with your eyes?” 

“That.” The angel let out a long, quiet breath. “Can we not talk about that right now?” 

“Alex.” Dean’s voice left no room for negotiation, and Alex sighed again. 

“Dean. It’s no big deal. Lucifer’s eyes do that too, and considering it only happens when his grace is acting up or when I’m really, really pissed, it’s probably caused because of him. Cas doesn’t know, I haven’t really brought it up with Luce, so I  _ just don’t know _ , okay? Now  _ please _ . Let’s get to the hospital.” 

The harsh breath expelled from Dean’s mouth only confirmed her suspicions that he wasn’t pleased, but he didn’t protest. He pressed down harder on the accelerator, and the car sped away.

 

 **“Y** ou’re in heat.” Lucifer’s voice sounded from across the room, and Alex turned in confusion, eyebrows raised in surprise to find herself back in her dreams. The archangel was seated on the stairs, staring at her through the railing.

“I am,” Alex agreed, running her fingers over the back of the couch as her grace flashed hot. “It’s worse than last time, too. It’s pretty uncomfortable.”

“I imagine,” the archangel agreed, ice blue eyes watching her every movement. “It’s been quite distracting, _le mohoath_. I’ve been spending more time making sure you don’t overheat than I have inside your mate’s head.”

“Mm. Thank you for that.” Alex’s wings curled towards Lucifer, welcoming him forward, but the archangel kept his distance. She let out a small whine at the cold shoulder. “Luce.”

Lucifer chuckled, shaking his head. “Come here.” He motioned to the stairs in front of him, and Alex hurried to stand in front of him, wings folding forward into the archangel’s. Lucifer had her sit in front of him, and cold hands moved to the back of her shoulders. “You know, angels aren’t meant to be alone,” he began, voice soft as his thumbs massaged her back. “Your body won’t be able to keep this up for long.”

“I’ll be fine, Lucifer.” Alex leaned into the archangel’s touch, a groan escaping her lips as he rubbed soft circles into the base of her wings. “Oh God, do that again.”

Lucifer obliged. However, he warned, “You need a mate. My grace will hold for a few more heats, but it won’t last forever.”

“And I don’t expect it to.” Alex’s head lulled backwards. “Can we not talk about this now?” she finally asked, accepting a soft kiss when the archangel dipped his head to meet hers. “I just need to relax. Maybe I should wake up and get a few drinks.”

Lucifer hummed disapprovingly. “Stay,” he murmured, lips cold against the shell of her ear. “Isn’t this nice?” His fingers danced up the arches of her wings, and his own curled around her. “The Winchesters will wake you if need be. Until then, just relax.”

 

 **A** lex didn’t wake up until the sun was high in the sky. It was Sam shaking her awake that finally brought her back into the real world, and the angel instinctively grabbed onto the hunter’s jacket as she slowly blinked open her eyes. “S-Sam?”

“They’re releasing Charlie from the hospital.” Sam helped her sit up, and the angel looked around to find herself laying on a bed in a motel room. “Dean and I promised to pick her up and drive her to the bus station. You in?”

“Yeah.” Alex staggered to her feet and smoothed down her clothes. She let the Winchester lead her out to the Buick. She grunted out a greeting to Dean, who nodded in acknowledgement. “Did I miss anything?” she asked as she got into the car.

“Nothing much.” Sam slid into the passenger side. “You were pretty out of it, though. Dean carried you into the room.”

“Mm. Thanks for that.” Alex rolled her shoulders, both glad and surprised to find that the tension was gone. “Okay, let’s go.”

 

 **C** harlie led the way through the bus terminal, the three hunters close behind her. “I left your dumb flask on the back seat, by the way,” she told Dean, glancing behind her to look at the Winchester. “Worst good-luck charm ever.”

Dean let out a noise of amusement and held out the woman’s duffle bag. “Here you go.”

“Thanks.” Charlie took it in her left hand and slung it over her good shoulder. Her right arm was in a dark sling, and she was wearing glasses, but overall looked healthy. She stopped beside her bus, turning to look at the three hunters that stood there.

“So listen,” Sam began, “um, we can’t thank you enough.”

“Actually, you can,” Charlie cut in. “Never contact me again. Like, ever. Deal?”

“Deal,” Sam chuckled.

Charlie held out her hand, and Dean moved to shake it. “Keep your head down out there, okay?” he told her, and Alex cocked an eyebrow when the woman scoffed.

“This isn’t the first time I’ve disappeared,” she told them humorously. When the brothers looked at her questioningly, she added, “You think my name is really Charlie Bradbury? Please.” She rolled her eyes. “So, good luck saving the world.” She held up her free hand in the Vulcan salute. “Peace out, bitches.”

Alex mimicked the hand gesture as Charlie boarded her bus, grinning when the woman was out of earshot. “I like her,” she decided.

“She’s kind of like the little sister I never wanted,” Dean agreed.

Alex looked up at him in mock offense. “I thought that was my role,” she protested light-heartedly, and let out a laugh when Dean rolled his eyes at her. However, Sam’s next words killed the mood.

“We got to talk.”

“What? Before we get back to the car and the flask?” Dean started moving down the street, and Sam and Alex followed.

“Exactly,” Sam agreed solemnly. “So, what the hell happened back there in the lobby?”

Dean shook his head, not knowing himself. “Man, if I had a free shot, I’d have bitch-slapped the hell out of Dick,” was all he said.

“Well, yeah,” his brother admitted, “but I mean . . .” He stopped and turned around, forcing Dean and Alex to stop as well, “ . . . Charlie got her fucking arm broken back there.”

“He didn’t mean for that to happen,” Alex insisted; how could he believe Bobby would do that on purpose? “It was an accident.”

“Exactly,” Sam snapped. “He’s not in control, guys, not around Dick. That was vengeful-spirit crap.”

“That ‘vengeful spirit crap’ saved our lives,” the angel retorted, wings rising slightly in frustration. “I mean, come on, Sam. Vengeful or not, it’s still Bobby.”

Sam just shook his head. “But if he really goes there, he won’t be anymore, and then we won’t be able to pull him back. And then what are we supposed to do?”

Alex opened her mouth to respond, but words failed her, and she just shook her head. “I know,” Dean finally said. “Look, let’s just figure out what this thing we stole is, and then we’ll figure out what the hell to do with Bobby.” Dean walked away, and Sam shook his head.

Alex hesitantly moved to follow, but a hand on her shoulder had her pausing. “I didn’t mean to snap at you,” Sam apologized quietly. “I —”

“Don’t.” Alex cut him off. “You’re right, you know, about Bobby. I just . . . sorry. The past few days have just been really stressful, with Bobby being a ghost, and then with this whole heat thing. I’ve been a little short.”

“I get it,” Sam promised. “And we’re here if you need us, alright? All you have to do is ask.”

A yell from Dean had him moving off, and Alex hurried after him. “You know the one thing I’m miffed about?” she finally said, playful mood returning as her wings spread outwards to absorb the sun. “Charlie had a broken arm, and you carried her out to the car. You _never_ carry me like that. Never. I broke my ankle on one of my first hunts and you made me hobble out to the car.”

Sam scoffed in disbelief. “No we didn’t,” he insisted. “You’re exaggerating.”

“I’m not!” The angel firmly shook her head. “We _jumped_ from a three story window, I shattered my ankle, and you not only made me walk to the car, but you left me alone in the motel room when the demons came.”

Sam shook his head. “Nope. That never happened.”

“Yeah, it did.” Alex grinned and grabbed onto Sam’s arm for emphasis. “Stop lying, Winchester.” Dean yelled again, this time for them to hurry up, and Alex let out a shriek when the ground disappeared, and suddenly she was in the air, Sam’s arms wrapped tightly around her waist. “Hey!”

The arms around her waist shifted slightly, moving Alex about like she weighed nothing. “You’re the one who said you wanted to be carried,” Sam retorted, his hair tickling Alex’s ear. “Make up your mind.”

The angel rolled her eyes. “Go back to hell, Sam.”


	43. Reading is Fundamental

**July 24, 2012**

**Chicago, Illinois**

**T** he sky was dark when Dean finally pulled the Buick to a stop. Alex groaned, rolling over and burying her head into Sam’s stomach, who was seated in the backseat behind her. She felt his hand come to rest on her shoulder, and she let out another, louder groan when the engine died.

She heard the front leather seats squeak as Dean shifted, and imagined him turning to look back at them. “How’s she doing?” he asked his brother.

“I don’t know.” Alex felt Sam’s shoulders rise and fall in a shrug. “I think she’s awake.”

“Damn straight I am,” she muttered into the Winchester’s shirt. “I hurt, but I’m feeling a bit better.” She sat up and looked around, wings flicking in distaste as she saw the abandoned factory looming above them. “What’s this?”

“Home.” Dean threw open the car door and got out. “For now, at least. Come on, get out. Let’s go see what Dick wanted so badly.”

Alex reluctantly untangled herself from Sam’s arms, running a hand down the side of her face as her grace whined in protest at the loss of physical touch. However, she dutifully slung her bag over her shoulder and pulled Sam’s sleeping bag into her arms, carrying it for him while he took the suitcase. The angel’s head dropped into the fabric, and she rubbed her face against it in a half-hearted attempt to wake up. “You should carry me up the stairs,” she mumbled as she bumped into Dean. “I don’t wanna walk.”

“Sorry, princess. Hands are full.” Dean nudged her back, forcing the angel to lift her head. The Winchester nodded towards the padlocked door. “You mind?”

Alex closed her eyes and flicked out her grace, visibly wincing when it connected with the iron. “Don’t want to go upstairs,” she muttered as she followed the Winchester inside. “I want Cas.”

“I know, sweetheart.”

They went up the stairs, and Dean led the way into a large, unfinished room. Dean dropped his duffle and sleeping bag on the cold, concrete floor, and Sam set the case on the old wooden table across the room. He set up the portable lamp and opened it, bathing the room in a bright LED light.

Alex dropped Sam’s sleeping bag beside Dean’s and walked over to the youngest Winchester, who was opening his laptop and setting up his wireless hotspot. “What’s in there?” she asked, pointing to the locked case. Her grace snuck outwards, unlocking it, and Dean opened the lid.

“Not sure,” he told her as Sam pulled away the pieces of cloth to reveal a large, rectangular lump of hardened clay. “That’s a lot of fuss over a caveman Lego,” he said with a frown, moving away and returning with a tool box.

“Yeah, well, whatever Dick wants is bricked up inside.” Sam accepted a pair of safety glasses and put them on, moving back slightly so Alex could take a pair from Dean as well.

The eldest Winchester pulled out a hammer. “Alright.” He motioned for Alex to take a step back as well, and the angel did so, pushing herself closer to Sam as Dean brought the hammer down onto the lump of clay.

Thunder clapped, and Alex’s grace rolled unpleasantly as the air grew thick. Dean paused and looked around, and the angel wondered if they could feel the change in the room as well.

She guessed not when Dean hit the clay again, and this time lightning accompanied the thunder, flashing through the broken windows. Alex jumped as it felt like her grace had been zapped, and her wings curled nervously around her body. Dean looked over at his brother, a frown on his face. “That sound like someone saying, ‘no, wait, stop’ to you?” he asked.

“Uh . . . yeah,” Sam nodded. “Yeah.”

“Huh.” Dean gave a small shrug. “Oh well.” He turned back to the clay and raised the hammer.

“The thunder’s hurting me,” Alex complained in a small voice. “I don’t like it.” Sam put a hand on the small of her back, and the angel’s wings curled in tighter as the hammer connected with the clay.

“You gonna be okay?” Sam ducked his head to whisper in her ear, and the angel nodded; it didn’t hurt too bad, it just irritated her grace which already was agitated enough with heat as it was.

Thunder cracked and rolled, and lightning flashed with each strike of the hammer. Alex pulled her wings in tighter and tighter as the pressure in the room grew and grew, pushing down on her, until with one strike of the hammer, it all shattered. There was a loud, high-pitched noise that punched through her eardrums, and the angel staggered backwards and tripped, falling onto her back, hands over her ears. Sam was at her side in an instant. “Alex? Are you okay?”

The angel stared up at the ceiling as the thunder and lightning ceased. “I’m fine,” she finally choked out, too afraid to move because everything around her was still spinning.

“Any idea what this is?” Dean crouched beside her, holding out a smooth, black, squarish rock. “It was in the clay,” he explained when Alex took it in her hands, features dark with confusion.

“Not sure.” Alex let Sam help her up into a sitting position, but leaned back into him for support. Her fingers traced the strange symbols written across it, and she shook her head. “I can’t read it . . .” She trailed of as the world spun, and then Sam’s hands were on her shoulders, keeping her upright.

“Alright.” The Winchester took the rock away and helped her to her feet. “You’re going to bed.” He led her over to his sleeping bag and unrolled it with a nudge of his boot-clad foot. “I’ll stay up and see what I can find,” he added to Dean. “You want to —” He motioned down to Alex, who was already climbing into his sleeping bag.

Dean nodded. “Yeah. Good idea.” Alex heard Dean move towards his own sleeping bag, and then heard the familiar sound of fabric dragging across concrete. “You doing okay?” His voice sounded right next to her, and Alex let out something akin to a purr, and she moved back into the hunter.

“I hurt,” she whined. “I want Cas.” She shifted back into Dean, eyes closing when his hand came to rest on her arm. “Fever’s going to break sometime tomorrow,” she whispered, relaxing into his touch. “Then I’ll be better.”

She heard Dean hum in acknowledgment. “This one’s worse than last year’s, isn’t it?” he noted quietly. “Last year you barely noticed.” The hand slipped up her neck and over her forehead. “You’re really warm,” the hunter fretted. “You sure you’re okay?”

“I want Cas,” Alex repeated childishly, pressing herself up into Dean’s touch. Her wings spread wide, trying to get as much contact with the cold, concrete floor as possible. Heat flashed through her, and a sob caught in her throat. “I _need_ my mate.” She rolled over and tucked herself into Dean’s chest, pressing her forehead into his neck. She felt Sam and Dean exchange looks, but the angel didn’t care. “Don’t go,” she whispered when she felt Dean shift.

The hunter settled back down. “Don’t worry,” he promised. “I won’t.” Dean managed to wrap his arms around her small body, and Alex sighed in relief when she was able to wiggle even closer. She felt the Winchesters exchange a worried look over her head, but she ignored it, instead choosing to whine once more and bury her nose into Dean’s collarbone.

 

 **A** lex blinked awake in confusion, eyes widening as she saw that the sun was shining through the windows. She rolled onto her back and swiped a hand through her hair. “Wha . . .”

“Morning, sunshine.” Dean was on his feet over by the far wall, where a rudimentary sink and mirror hung. “How’d you sleep? Feeling okay?”

“I . . . I slept?” The angel scratched her head. “I didn’t dream. I usually dream.” Seeing that neither brother seemed to care, she pulled herself to her feet. “I’m better,” she informed them. “I believe yesterday was the worse of it. It’s the . . .” She took a moment to think, “fifth day of my heat,” she finally finished. “I’m starting to recover.”

“Glad to hear it.” Sam glanced over at her from where he sat at the table on his laptop; Alex heard the low hum of voices coming from it. He must be watching the news.

“Anything good on?” she asked, wings flicking in his general direction as she pulled her bag closer.

Sam opened his mouth to respond, but Dean’s voice had their attention turning to him. “Bobby?” he asked, staring down at a metal cup beside him. “Bobby, that you?”

“I don’t see him.” Alex’s face grew even more quizzical when Sam held up the EMF, which was redlining.

“I think he’s there.” Sam turned the EMF off and dropped it on the table. “The whole adventure at Roman’s probably drained his batteries.”

Alex flicked her grace out. “Maybe my grace is off,” she muttered. “Just what I need.” Her wings flicked in distaste as Dean moved past her.

“So what?” he asked his brother. “We start the storm around the world?”

Sam touched the smooth stone beside him. “When we broke this thing open last night, every maternity ward within a hundred mile radius got slammed. Looks like any woman in the last month of her pregnancy went into labor.”

“Hmm.” Dean picked up the black tablet and turned it over. “This one goes out to all the ladies.” He looked at his brother, but Sam didn’t even acknowledge his joke. The Winchester moved on. “So, heavyweight signs, omens — what do we got?”

“I assume it’s writing,” Sam shrugged. “But I’ve never seen anything like it, ever. And it doesn’t match anything in the books or online.”

Dean handed the tablet to Alex, and she ran her fingers over the engraved characters. “It’s not Enochian,” she confirmed. “Or any other language I recognize. It should translate automatically in my brain.” She frowned and gave it back to Dean.

“Alright, so big daddy chomper lands here, he grabs himself some Dick . . . and then he starts secretly underwriting university departments, pouring money into digs — all for this. Why?”

Dean’s brother gave a shake of his head. “No clue. We do know that he will be tearing new ones until he gets it back, though. Look, we got to take a minute, hole up somewhere safe, find out what we’ve got.”

Dean nodded. “Rufus’ cabin, then?”

Sam agreed, and Alex’s head lolled back. “No,” she whined. “I hate that place. I . . . I just want to take a warm shower, guys. Is that too much to ask?”

“Afraid so.” Dean clapped her on the shoulder before pointing at his brother. “This time, I’m doing the shopping.”

Sam opened his mouth — probably to protest, by the looks of it — but the ringing of his cell phone stopped him. Alex followed Dean over to start packing when the hunter announced, “It’s Meg.”

The angel perked up, hurrying back over to Sam. “Is it Cas?” she asked, eyes wide with a mixture of trepidation and anticipation.

The Winchester held a finger to his lips before he answered, “What?”

“What up, Bullwinkle?” The demon’s voice had Alex’s feathers curling in distaste. However, at her next words, they fell open in surprise. “Just a little FYI call. Your boy’s awake.”

“What?” Alex leaned up on her tiptoes, trying to get closer to the phone. “Cas is awake? H-How is he? I swear to God if you’ve touched him —’

“When?” Sam gently pushed Alex away before he put the phone on speaker. “When did he wake up?”

“Last night, about eight,” the demon droned.

Dean’s voice was sharp with anger. “And you waited until _now_ to call us?”

“I’ve been busy with Cas,” Meg informed them dryly. “He’s just a _tad_ different than when he dozed off, okay?”

“What does that mean?” Alex looked up at Sam in confusion and alarm. “Meg? What the hell does that mean?”

“Guess what — not a nurse. Just playing one on TV. You want answers, start driving.” There was a click, and then the line went dead, and Alex’s wings flared out.

She didn’t realize she was growling until Dean put a hand on her shoulder. “I swear if that bitch fucking touched him I’m going to rip her throat out.”

“That . . . might just be the heat talking.” Dean nudged her towards their things. “Come on. The sooner we get packed, the faster we get to Cas.” He glanced over his shoulder at his brother. “So Indiana, huh.” When Sam nodded he added, “Eight o’clock last night.”

“Yeah. Same time we opened up that thing.”

Alex dropped to her knees and started rolling up Sam’s sleeping bag. “Hurry up,” she urged. “We need to get down to Indiana.” _Cas?_ she prayed. _Are you okay? Where are you?_ Nothing. She dug her phone out of her bag and dialed the number of Castiel’s cell phone. It rang and rang, and Alex’s breath caught in her throat when someone answered. “Cas?”

“Alex.” Meg sounded less than pleased to hear her voice. “What do you want?”

“Where’s Cas?” Alex fell back onto the heels of her feet, a frown deeply set on her face. “Let me talk to him.”

“Sorry. No can do. Clarence isn’t in any condition to be talking.” Alex almost heard the demon shaking her head. “You want answers, you come in person.” Meg hung up, and Alex angrily tossed her phone back into her bag.

 

**Northern Indiana**

**I** t was dark when Alex hurried up the stairs of the Northern Indiana State Hospital, grace desperately pushing out in front of her. Both Winchesters were on her heels, although Alex could hear them slowing down as they reached the fourth floor. “We raced all the way here, and now I don’t know,” Dean muttered. “I can’t say I’m fired up to see what’s left of the guy.”

“Shh.” Sam whacked his brother in the chest with the back of his hand, motioning for him to be quiet lest Alex heard. However, he added in a low voice, “You think he remembers at all?”

Dean scoffed. “That, and I’m guessing whatever kind of hell-baggage he lifted off your plate. It’s not going to be pretty.”

“I can hear every word you’re saying,”Alex snapped, glaring back at them. “You know that, right?”

The brothers were saved from responding by an orderly, who stepped in front of them. “Hey,” he stated. “Excuse me, gentlemen, but it’s way past visiting hours.”

“It’s okay, Abel.” A dry voice had Alex’s skin crawling. “I’ve been expecting them. Hello, boys.” The demon stopped in front of them as Abel moved away, arms crossed and eyes darting up and down the three of them. They paused on Alex’s wings, which rose up in a challenge until the demon rolled her eyes and motioned them all forward.

The Winchesters passed by, but suddenly Alex couldn’t get her feet to move. It was only when Sam reached out and brushed a hand down her arm in passing that she found the courage to walk forward. Meg led the way into a room, and Alex squeezed past the Winchesters to find a man staring out the darkened windows, his back to them. Navy wings were folded loosely against his back, and Alex hesitantly pushed her grace out to push against his.

The action had Castiel turning, his own wings flicking in formal acknowledgement. “Alex.” His grace brushed against hers in greeting before he nodded to the Winchesters. “Hello, Dean. Sam.” He was wearing the white scrubs that all of the mental patients there wore, with the same white tennis shoes, but over that was his trench coat, old and worn, but clean of the stains and the blood it had before.

“Hey, Castiel.” Sam got out.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean echoed. He sounded relieved as Castiel walked over to them. “Look at you, walking and talking. That’s — that’s great, right?”

The seraph stopped in front of Dean and held up his hand, pointer finger held out. “Pull my finger.”

Dean looked taken aback. “W-What?”

“My finger,” Castiel repeated. “Pull it.”

Dean looked over at his brother, but slowly did as the angel said. Alex felt Castiel’s grace rush out, and the lights above their head exploded into sparks, and then the room was flooded with darkness. She flinched, but Castiel’s grin only grew, and he let out a small laugh at their reactions.

Alex slipped past Dean, feet scuffling on the hard floor as she tried to think of what to say. “Hey,” she finally managed. “You . . .”

“I remember,” Castiel promised, although his voice remained casually calm. His wide eyes watched as Meg returned with a lamp and plugged it into the wall. “All of it, actually. It all came back after I woke.” He looked down at himself. “Did you know this is the first vessel I’ve taken? Jimmy’s gone, of course, so it’s a lot more spacious than before —”

“Okay, just hang on, Cas.” Dean cut the angel off. “Wait. Let us catch up to you for a second.”

“So you’re saying you remember who you are, what you are,” Sam added, lips twisted downwards in a confused frown.

Castiel didn’t seem to catch on to the tension in the room. “Yes, of course,” he agreed. “Oh.” He turned back to Alex, features taking on the innocent look of a child. “Outside today, in the garden, I followed a honeybee. I saw the route of the flowers. It’s all right there, the whole plan. There’s nothing to add.” Cas looked around, mesmerized at what the world promised.

“That’s … that’s really cool, Cas.”

“You might want to add a little Thorazine,” Sam quipped under his breath, and Alex’s wings flicked distastefully, but she didn’t disagree.

Meg, however, vocally agreed. “Right? He’s been like the naked man at the rave ever since he woke up. Totally useless.”

Alex raised her wings at the demon’s words, deeply offended, but Castiel didn’t seem to feel the same, turning to look at the demon with a smile. “Will you look at her?” he asked, voice tender. “My caretaker. All that thorny pain. So beautiful.”

Alex growled, and Meg rolled her eyes. “We’ve been over this,” she drawled. “I don’t like poetry. So put up or shut up.”

“I vote shut up,” Alex huffed, reaching out with her wings to touch her mate, brushing her feathers across his wings. Castiel turned back to her, eyebrows raising slightly in innocence as he reciprocated the gesture; unfortunately, he seemed to be more intrigued by where their feathers touched than in Alex herself.

“Okay.” Sam’s voice turned both angels’ attentions back to him. “So, Cas, you said you woke up last night?”

“Yes. I heard a ping that pierced me, and, well, you wouldn’t have heard it unless you were an angel at the time.”

“I didn't hear a ping,” Alex countered. “It was more like a cymbal crash right beside me.”

“That happened when we opened this.” Sam pulled his bag off of his shoulder and held it out for the seraph.

Castiel took it, and Alex saw his wings twitch in interest when he unwrapped the tablet. “Oh. Of course.” He turned the tablet over in his hands as he looked up at the Winchesters. “Now I understand.”

“Understand what?” Sam looked over at Dean in confusion.

“You were the ones.” A smile was on Castiel’s face. “Well . . . I guess that makes sense.”

“What makes sense?”

“If someone was going to free the Word from the vault of the earth, it would end up being you two. Oh, I love you guys.” The seraph stepped forward and pulled the two brothers into a loose hug, and Dean looked down at Alex, eyes wide in confusion. She shook her head, not sure what was going on.

“Oh, okay.” Dean slowly tried to pull himself free. “Okay, alright. Okay.” The Winchesters were finally able to let go once Sam patted Castiel on the back, and the seraph stepped back to stand beside Alex once again.

“Yeah, yeah.” Sam’s eyes followed the seraph’s retreat. “You — you said something about ‘the Word.’ Is that what’s written on there?”

Instead of answering, Castiel looked down at Alex. “Did you know that a cat’s penis is sharply barbed on the shaft?” he asked her. “I know for a fact the females weren’t consulted about that.”

“Yeah, uh, I actually did know that.” Alex scratched the back of her neck uncomfortably, internally grateful when Dean cleared his throat.

“Cas, please, we’re losing ground out there, okay?” he said, drawing the seraph’s attention back on topic. “We need your help. Can’t you see that?”

Castiel studied Dean for two, long seconds before looking down at the tablet. “This is the handwriting of Metatron,” he finally informed them.

“Metatron?” Sam immediately scoffed. “You’re saying a Transformer wrote this?”

“No, that’s Megatron,” Dean corrected quietly.

“What?”

“The Transformer,” Dean repeated. “It’s Megatron.”

“Me _ta_ tron. He’s an angel,” Castiel explained. “He’s the scribe of God. He took down dictation when creation was being formed. It was a spectacular sight,” he added to Alex. “Every creature coming into being —”

“Cas,” Sam’s voice was sharp, and Castiel fell silent, wings pulling back slightly in hurt. The Winchester didn’t see the action, and continued. “So that’s the Word of God?”

“One of them, yes.”

“Uh, well . . . what does it say, then?”

The angel squinted as he looked down at the writing. “Uh . . . tree. Horse? Fiddler crab?” He gave a shrug and looked back up at the Winchester. “I can’t read it. It wasn’t meant for angels.”

Meg had enough. “Okay, this all sounds bad,” she decided, stepping forward. “What are you two jackasses doing with the word of God? Let me see that thing.” She reached for the tablet in Castiel’s hands, but Dean was quicker.

“Back off, Meg.” The hunter stepped forward, stopping the demon in her tracks.

Meg’s eyes flashed with anger. “Come on, it’s my ass, too.”

“Back. Off.”

“Dammit!” The demon crossed her arms. “Enough of this ‘demons are second-class citizens’ shit!”

“I don’t like conflict.” Before Alex could utter a warning, Castiel’s wings flared up and thrust down, and the angel barely recoiled in time as he flew past. The next second the tablet hit the concrete floor, and Alex felt a pulse of energy nearly knock her over as it shattered into three pieces.

“Uh . . .” Sam stared down at the broken Word of God, eyes wide.

Dean rounded on the demon. “What the hell was that?”

“You heard him, he doesn’t like conflict.” Meg crossed her arms and shifted her weight to her other leg. “He’s down in the dayroom now, I guarantee it.”

“Alright, I’ll handle Cas.” Dean’s frown only deepened when he looked down at Alex. “You’re with me. Sam, will you please pick up the… Word of God?”

When Sam agreed, Dean led the way back out into the hall. “Dammit,” he scowled once they were out of earshot. “What the hell is going on?”

“I don’t know.” Alex pushed her grace out through the building. “Cas . . . Meg wasn’t wrong about him being . . . different.” She felt Castiel’s grace dance across hers, a gesture that felt playful, but in a childish way that unnerved the angel in a way she never could have imagined.

She let Dean enter the dayroom ahead of her, wings pulling in tight at the sight of Castiel sitting alone at a table, a stack of games by his side. “You do realize you just broke God’s Word?” Dean asked, circling around and sitting in front of his friend.

Castiel looked away, refusing to answer, and Alex brushed light fingers over his shoulder in a gesture of comfort before moving to sit beside Dean as he continued. “It’s Sam’s thing, isn’t it? You taking on his, uh, cage-match scars. I’m guessing that’s what broke your bank, right?”

“Well, it took . . . everything to get me here.” Castiel held Dean’s gaze, but not once did it move over to Alex, even when she pushed her grace into his. It gently pulled away, and the girl’s gaze fell.

“What are you talking about, man?” Dean’s frustration grew, and his hands tightened into fists.

Castiel’s voice remained calm. “Dean, I know you want different answers-” Cas started.

“No, I want you to button up your coat and help us take down Leviathans!” Dean snapped. “Do you remember what you did?”

The seraph’s gaze turned to the pile of games next to him, and he pulled one close, holding it up so both Alex and Dean could see it’s name. Sorry. Alex’s shoulders fell as she understood, but instead of clarifying, Castiel shook the box once, grace pushing every piece and card into place in the blink of the eye, all ready to play, leaving Alex wondering if his actions were even an apology at all. “Do you want to go first?”

Alex looked up to see Dean’s jaw square, but the hunter did as the angel asked.

“You know, we weren’t sure what monkeys were going to make it at first,” Castiel began. “No offense, but I was backing on the Neanderthals because their poetry was. . . so amazing. It’s in perfect tune with the spheres.” He waited until Dean had moved his piece before reaching for his own card. “But in the end it was you - the homo sapien sapiens.” The angel moved his green playing piece. “You guys ate the apple, invented pants.”

Dean briefly looked down at Alex. “Cas, where can we find this, uh, Metatron? Is he still alive?”

“I’m sorry.” Castiel met Dean’s gaze. “I-I think you have to go back to start.”

The Winchester moved his piece, movements stiff with frustration, and Alex reached out to touch him on the arm. “This is important,” he snapped. He drew another card when Castiel motioned for him to do so before adding, “I think Metatron could stop a lot of bad You understand that?”

Castiel slowly drew a card, face thoughtful as he read it. “We live in a Sorry universe,” he finally said. “It’s engineered to create conflict. I mean, why should I prosper from your misfortune?” He moved his piece to rest on the same square as one of Dean’s before moving Dean’s piece back to start with the same, slow motion. “But these are the rules. I didn’t make them.”

“You made some of them.” Alex could feel Dean’s anger from where she sat. “When you tried to become God, when you cut that hole into that wall.”

Castiel looked down at the game. “Dean . . .” he said quietly, “ it’s your move.”

“Forget about the damn game!” Dean knocked the game off of the table in a sudden burst of anger, sending cards and pieces clattering to the floor. “Forget about the game, Cas.”

Castiel looked down at the mess. “I’m sorry, Dean.”

“No, you’re playing _Sorry_.”

Alex finally had enough, and reached out to touch his arm. “Dean, please,” she whispered. “Go wait outside. I’ll talk to him.”

The Winchester’s eyes flashed, like he was going to protest, but with one last glance at Castiel he nodded. “If you need me . . .”

“I’ll call you.” Alex shifted into Dean’s chair as the Winchester walked away. “Hey,” she finally said once the door was closed. “How are you doing?”

The angel didn’t answer, but quietly moved to kneel on the ground and pick up the scattered cards. Alex wordlessly joined him, folding the board up and setting it back on the table. “I’ve been worried about you,” she began as she collected the deck. Castiel counted up each individual game piece while she returned to the table and set the deck down.

Eventually Castiel returned to sit across from her, and with a flick of his grace the game was set up once again. The seraph finally spoke. “Do you want to go first?”

“I’m serious, Cas.” Alex took a card but didn’t read it. “I need to know if you’re okay. If Lucifer hurt you—”

“What does it say?” The angel asked, and Alex let the card fall onto the table, sighing to show the four. She watched as Castiel drew a card for himself before he said, “You’re in heat.”

Alex blinked at the casualness in his statement, but managed to say, “Y-Yeah. I just got out, actually. It’s the fifth day.”

“I’m sorry. That must have hurt.” Castiel moved one of his blue pawns forward before returning his hands to his lap, waiting for Alex to move.

“Like a bitch,” the young angel agreed sourly, drawing a card. Four. “Worse than the last one. Couldn’t sleep without a Winchester beside me.” She cut herself off before she mentioned Lucifer’s grace, busying herself by drawing another card as Castiel moved his pawn ahead. A three. She tossed it onto the table.

“I’m sorry." Castiel drew another card, and moved another pawn out of his start bubble. “Your turn.”

“You better not be cheating,” Alex warned, eying the two pawns already on the board. Castiel didn’t respond, and her wings rose in a hint of agitation. “Can you just drop this stupid act already?” she finally snapped. “Just tell me what Lucifer did to you, Cas. I need you to get better!”

“I _am_ better.” The seraph shook his head, a smile pulling his lips upwards. “Don’t you see? “Everything is so much . . . clearer now. What Lucifer did — I deserved it, and I suffered gladly, but now . . . now everything makes sense.”

“Yeah, well I wish I could say the same.” Alex took a deep breath, pushing down her frustrations that had boiled up. “Listen, I —”

“It’s your turn.” Castiel motioned to the cards. When Alex hesitated he motioned more insistently. “Alex.”

The young angel drew a card and moved her pawn out onto the right square. “I just want you to be okay. I want things to go back to normal, I want you. The old you.”

“Alex, I’m the same angel.” Something slipped through Castiel’s innocent facade, something real, something meaningful, but the next second it was gone, tucked carefully back inside and out of view. “I think you would have liked the dinosaurs. I didn’t care for them much; they were far too pessimistic, but I have a feeling they would like you.” He picked up one of his pawns and put it in the same square as Alex’s. When she didn’t react, he prompted. “You’re suppose to go back to start.”

“No one cares about the stupid game, Cas!” Alex slapped her hand down on the table, but immediately regretted it at the hurt in her angel’s eyes. “I — fuck.” She buried her head in her hands embarrassedly. “I didn't mean that. I just . . . this heat’s making my pissy,” she finally lied. “I’m sorry.”

“I understand.” Castiel reached out, brushing his fingers across the back of her hand, and Alex’s grace stirred painfully, begging her to get up and crawl into his embrace. As if he could sense it, the seraph pulled away. “At least this time you’re functional,” he added. “I don’t like to see you in pain.”

“Ditto.”

Castiel opened his mouth to respond, but whatever he was going to say died in his throat. “Sam’s talking to angels.” His wings thrust downward and then he was gone, and Alex jumped to her feet.

She pushed her grace down the hall to where Castiel’s room was, and her feathers stood on end to feel two strange graces residing in human vessels. “Dean?” Alex rushed out of the dayroom, and didn’t stop running, leaving the hunter to take off after her. “Angels are with Sam. I don’t know them!” She slipped around a bend in the hall and slid to a stop outside of Castiel’s room.

“—you were gone!” a strange, female voice was demanding. “What the hell was that?”

“Rude, for one thing.”

Alex stepped inside to see Castiel’s wings pinned calmly against his back, showing no agitation even though the other angel’s dusky brown wings were flared high. Even though the vessel was female, the grace was male, and Alex reached out to feel the second angel who stood by Meg. Male as well. “Cas?” she asked slowly, moving closer to her angel. “Who are they?”

“Alex, meet Hester and Inias.” Castiel flicked a wing at the pissed angel in front of him first, then nodded to the angel standing by the demon. “They were in my garrison under my lead.”

“Where the hell have you been?” Inias asked, his voice terse, but far less angry than his companion’s.

“Oh, Inias. Hester. I . . . I know you want something — answers,” Castiel began, his words lackluster and hesitant. “I . . . I wish it could be that . . . there are still so many things I can teach you. I can offer, um . . . perspective,” he finally said. “Here.” He held out a hand to Hester, a smile on his face. “Pull my finger.” He waited, but the angel didn’t move, her frown deepening with every passing second until Castiel’s hand fell back to his side. “Uh . . . uh . . . Meg will get another light, and I’ll — I’ll blow it out again.” The seraph seemed to be faltering, unsure what to do, and Alex moved closer to him, wings puffing out defensively. “And, well, this time,” Castiel rambled, “it will be funny, and — and we’ll all look back and laugh.”

Hester’s wings fell down in shock. “You’re insane.”

A growl rumbled in Alex’s throat at her words, feathers bristling, but a sharp word had her turning in surprise. “Hey.” Dean was standing in the doorway, his body half hidden by the wall. “Heads up, Sunshine.”

Alex picked up the trace of blood in the air, and her eyes grew wide as she saw Dean move, and then the room exploded into white light. Her breath was forced from her lungs as something crushed her ribcage, and she curled her wings tightly around her as she tried to hide. Wind blew through her hair and feathers, and the next second grass was beneath her fingertips as the angel tipped over, eyes rolling into the back of her head.

Alex let out a high pitched whine as she rolled onto her side, grace protesting with a shriek. “C-Cas?” Her black wings stretched out across the cold, frosted grass, and Alex couldn’t help the shiver that coursed through her body. “Cas.” The name came out as a whimper as the angel did her best to roll onto her feet.

There were streetlights to her left, and a parking lot just visible through the sunlight. It was day? But it had been night. Alex curled her wings around her as she looked down at the light covering of frost. Where the hell was she?

She hurriedly crossed the street and tugged her light jacket tighter around her. _Greyhound WA Cannington_ , the gates read. They were open, and Alex slipped inside. Her grace flicked uncomfortably as she slid through a crowd of people. “E-Excuse me,” she said quietly, stopping beside a man who looked like he worked there. “Can you, uh, tell me where I am?”

“Course, lady. You’re on Station Street. Greyhound track.”

The man started to turn away, but Alex reached out to catch his arm. “Uh, okay, but like, relative to the US, where am I?”

The short man barked out a laugh. “You pissed, sheila? You’re in Cannington. Australia,” he added when he saw Alex’s blank look. “You ain't from around here, are ya?” He laughed, and apparently the question had been rhetorical, because he turned away.

“I . . . have no idea what you just said.” Alex watched him go with a shake of her head. “Pissed? Sheila? What? Castiel?” she asked aloud. “I’m in, uh . . . Cannington, Australia? Please, Castiel. I can’t fly and . . .” Her voice dropped into a soft whisper. “I don’t want to be alone.”

Suddenly she was standing in the middle of the circular track, her wrist tightly gripped in Castiel’s hand. “Why are we in Australia?” he asked, squinting down at her.

Alex gave a small shrug. “We’re in Australia because that’s where Dean’s spell threw me, and then you came to get me.” She pulled her arm free, but before Castiel could move away, she took his hand in hers, lacing their fingers together. “Glad you came.”

“Of course.” Castiel pulled his phone out of his pocket, a frown across his face as a bell dinged, and greyhounds were released onto the track. He dialed a number and held the cell up to his ear. “Meg? Hello? Meg.” He turned away when he sensed Alex’s frustration.

“Yeah,” she heard the demon answer. “Yeah, Castiel, it’s me.” She heard a faint, sharp mutter, before Meg retorted, “Shut up.”

“I’ll stop talking,” Castiel promised, wings resting calmly against his back even though Alex could see them twitch in agitation every once and awhile.

“No. No, Cas, you talk.”

“I’m in a place called Perth.” Castiel’s eyes followed the lean creatures as they raced around the track. “Alex is here. We’re surrounded by large, unhappy dogs.”

Alex snorted at his words, and Meg asked, “What dogs?” before she added, probably to a Winchester, if Alex had to guess, “He says he’s surrounded by unhappy dogs.”

“They’re chasing a rabbit around a track,” Castiel continued, and Alex squeezed his hand when his agitation crept into his voice.

“Oh, okay,” Meg said to her companion. “He’s at a track in Perth.”

“I’m surrounded by large, unhappy dogs,” Castiel repeated, and his wings twitched as the dogs neared them, their barking growing louder and fiercer.

“Yeah, they’re unhappy ‘cause the rabbit’s fake,” Meg drawled.

Alex reached up and took the cellphone from Castiel, silencing his protests with a finger against his lips. “Shh,” she soothed before turning her attention to Meg. “Hey, it’s Alex. Where are you guys?”

“We’re on highway 94, north of St. Cloud, Minnesota, just passing mile marker 79.”

Castiel nodded, and his navy wings spread outwards a second before he pushed them downwards, pushing them into the sky. The wind almost blinded the angel, but Castiel’s wings carried them safely through the sky until they touched down safely in Dean’s Buick, Castiel in the middle of the backseat, and Alex on his lap. She looked to her right to see Meg, and then to her left to see . . . “Uh . . . Dean?” She awkwardly crawled over the front seat to situate herself between the two Winchesters, all the while staring at the stranger beside her angel. “Who’s that?”

The guy was young, eighteen, nineteen years old, and his long, black hair barely hid his brown eyes, opened wide at the two angels’ sudden appearance, and a cry of surprise dying in his throat.

“Kevin,” Meg introduced, “this is Castiel.” She motioned to the angel beside her before pointing at Alex. “That’s his mate.”

“I’m Alex.” Alex shot him a friendly little wave, although that didn’t seem to help calm him down.

“You’re one of the angels?” Kevin got out, leaning back against the door when Castiel turned to look down at him.

Cas lifted up a hand, and Alex frowned when he lightly touched the asian on the nose with a finger. “Boop.” He turned to Meg, and the young angel’s frown deepened when he asked, “Meg, are you hurt?”

“Shut up.” Meg glared at both Castiel and Alex when a growl rumbled deep within Alex’s throat, wings rising threateningly.

“Cas, what happened back there?” Dean asked, knocking Alex in the side with his arm to tear her gaze away from the demon.

“They’re from my Garrison,” the seraph explained. “My old Garrison. Looks like Hester’s taken over. We were assigned to watch the Earth. Often it was boring. The wars were very boring, and the sex — you know, the repetition.” Alex cleared her throat and shot him a meaningful glance, wanting him to get back on topic, and Castiel looked down at his lap. “Anyways, I was, uh . . . I was their captain. Isn’t that strange?” he mused.

Sam turned his head so he could look into the backseat. “Cas, why are they pissed at us now?”

“You know, those racing dogs were miserable,” Castiel told Meg in a very serious voice. “They can only think in ovals.”

“Cas, don’t make me pull this car over!” Dean’s voice grew deep and harsh as he lost his patience. “Why are the angels after us?”

Castiel’s wings immediately drew in close, and his eyes grew wide. “Are you angry? Why are you angry?”

“He’s not angry,” Alex quickly promised, flicking Dean over the head with her wings.

“No, I-I’m . . .” Dean shook his head, and Alex watched as his fingers tightened on the steering wheel. “Please, can we just stay on target?”

“There is no reason for anger,” Castiel continued. “They’re only following protocol. If the Word of God is revealed, a keeper of the Word will awaken, like this hot potato right here.” The angel reached out and tried to touch Kevin on the nose again.

The teen knocked his hand away. “Please stop that,” he begged quietly.

Castiel returned his hand to his lap as he added, “Anyways, Garrison code dictates you take the keeper to the dessert to learn the Word away from men.”

“Wait.” Alex turned in her seat in surprise, staring at the teen as it all clicked together. “You’re a prophet. Kevin Tran.” The name flashed across her eyes, and she blinked it away.

“I can’t live in the dessert!” Kevin cried, clutching his black bag closer, which Alex suddenly realized held the tablet. “I-I’m applying to Princeton!”

“Okay, you know what?” Dean pushed down on the accelerator, and the car lurched forward. “Screw the Garrison. We need the tablet to end Dick Roman’s “Soylent Us” shit!”

Castiel leaned forward, and Alex shifted towards Sam to give the seraph room. “If you want the Word,” he told them, “you’ll have to duck Hester and her soldiers.”

“Yeah, you’re in our corner, right, Cas?”

The seraph moved back into his seat beside Meg, turning his attention out the window. “No, I don’t fight anymore. I watch the bees.” Alex heard his wings twitch before he added quietly to the demon, “It’s sad. I could feel the dogs’ frustrations at the people —”

“Kevin.” Alex turned around in the seat. “You take shotgun up here. I’m in the back.” She crawled over the seat and into Castiel’s lap before the prophet could speak, giving him no choice but to slowly move. Once Kevin had awkwardly gone to sit in between the two Winchesters, Alex pointed to the empty seat. “Move.”

Castiel’s face narrowed in confusion. “Why couldn’t you —”

“I’m next to the demon. You’re sitting by the window.” Alex remained firm, and Castiel slid over, leaving Alex to slip into the space between Castiel and Meg, crossing her arms as the demon snorted.

She felt Castiel’s gaze on her before one wing tucked itself around her shoulders. “You’re jealous,” the seraph realized, and his blue eyes widened. “I, uh, I picked you some flowers this morning, for when you came back.” He eagerly shifted in his seat to reach the pocket of his trench coat, and he pulled out several stems with a few white petals barely hanging on. He held them out to her, but his face fell in dismay when he saw their miserable state. “They were in one piece when I picked them,” he started rambling, eyes slightly wide. “They must have fallen apart. I’ve found things tend to do that, and flowers, well, they’re so frail —”

“Thank you.” Alex took the flower stems from Castiel and leaned over, resting one hand on Castiel’s face as she pressed a soft kiss on his cheek, and the angel fell silent. “They’re lovely.”

 

**Whitefish, Montana**

**W** ithin twenty four hours they were back at Rufus’ cabin, and they had immediately set to work putting up sigils to hide them from whatever wanted Kevin.

“Leave off the angel-proofing sigils or I’ll be expelled, too.” Castiel’s voice had Alex looking up from where she was kneeling on the kitchen counter, a paint brush smothered in red paint in her left hand.

“As long as we’re invisible from your garrison buddies, it works for me,” Sam responded from across the room. He was painting sigils on the windows as well, while Castiel was drawing on the front door with white chalk.

She tipped her head as footsteps echoed on the stairs, marking the arrival of Dean from the basement. He had taken Kevin down there to get started on translating the Word of God, and it had been several minutes since the prophet had stopped protesting in a rather high-pitched voice, so she took it to mean that he was doing well. She had decided she liked Kevin. He was strange, but also kind of adorable.

When she looked back up, Castiel was sitting in a chair at the table, and Sam was walking over to join him. The hunter let out a dissatisfied noise as he sat, clearly displeased with their current situation, and the seraph looked up from where he was examining a porcelain fawn. “You seem troubled,” he commented, turning the creature in his hands. “Of course, that’s a primary aspect of your personality, so I sometimes choose to ignore it.”

Alex huffed in amusement, but still flicked a wing out, catching her angel on the head to remind him to play nice. Sam cleared his throat, looking over at the seraph. “Okay . . .” he slowly agreed. “Um . . . right now, I’m just wondering about you.”

“What about me?” Castiel’s head tilted, and his eyes narrowed as he scrutinized the hunter. “You’re worried about the burden I’ve lifted from you,” he deduced after Sam looked away.

“I thought I was done for.” Sam looked back up into Castiel’s face before he asked, “Do you see Lucifer?”

Alex turned and sat down on the counter, debating whether or not to jump into the conversation. She knew for a fact Lucifer’s grace no longer resided in Castiel’s vessel, but she was curious as to what the seraph would say.

“I did at first,” Castiel admitted. “But that was . . . a projection of yours, I think, sort of an aftertaste. I don’t know. Now I see . . . more of everything. It’s funny,” he continued after a second’s pause. “I thought I was done for, too. The weight of all of my mistakes, all those lives and souls lost, I . . . I couldn’t take it either.”

Alex’s wings twitched irritably as she watched Meg stir from the couch, slipping unnoticed by Castiel out of the cabin.

“I was lost until I took on your pain,” Castiel was still saying, voice low and heavy with sorrow. He looked up from his lap. “It’s strange to think that that helped, but —”

“I know you never did anything but try to help,” Sam promised. “I realize that, Cas, and I’m grateful. And we’re going to help you get better, okay?” The hunter looked over at Alex. “No matter what it takes.”

“What do you mean, ‘better’?” Castiel followed Sam’s gaze over to Alex. “There’s nothing wrong with me.” He set down the porcelain fawn on the table, and Alex slid off of the counter, grace brushing comfortingly against his.

“Of course not,” the young angel lied, holding out her hands. “Come on. Let’s see what’s on TV, huh? We can talk about this in the morning.”

Castiel took her hand and let her lead him over to the worn couch. “We should talk,” he agreed as he sat down beside her. “I’ve realized you were right when you said we lacked communication —”

“In the morning, Cas.” Alex tucked herself into the seraph’s side. Her grace reached out for his, her waning heat wanting to wrap itself inside of him for as long as it possibly could. “I’ve missed you.”

“Where’s Meg?” Castiel’s grace swept outwards, leaving Alex to frown in frustration. “She was here only a few minutes ago.”

“Dammit.” Sam jumped to his feet as he realized that the demon was gone, and he looked around the cabin. “Dean?” he yelled. “Get up here. Meg’s gone.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Footsteps thudded on the rickety stairs as Dean made his way into the kitchen. “Where the hell did she go?”

“I don’t know. Crowley, maybe?” Sam shrugged, and Dean’s gaze darkened even further. "She didn’t say anything.”

“I’m sure there’s an reasonable explanation,” Castiel promised, standing up, and Alex internally whined as he left. “This is Meg we’re talking about —”

“Exactly,” Alex snapped, patience with Castiel’s fixation growing thin. “Meg. A demon, who not only betrayed the Winchesters — what is it, twice now? — but also wanted to feed me to her hellhounds. Yeah, my bet’s on she’s trouble this time too.”

“I don’t think —”

“Sorry, Cas.” Sam picked up the leftover jar of red paint off of the table. “This time, she’s right.”

 

 **T** he door creaked open twenty minutes later, and Alex watched as a dark shape slipped into the cabin. The door clicked shut behind her and the figure took two steps forward before it froze. A sharp exhale of exasperation fell from its lips, and then Sam flicked the switch, bathing the room in light. “Didn’t expect to see you back,” he started, arms crossed across his chest.

“Yeah, not without the King’s army.” Dean strolled forward, hand held out. “Knife,” he ordered, motioning towards the demon knife in Meg’s hands.

“Typical,” Meg harangued. “I save our bacon, and you’re sitting here, waiting by a devil’s trap. Seriously, I just killed _two_ of Crowley’s men. I could have gone the other way with that.” She glared at the two Winchesters, who stared back until Castiel decided to speak up.

“It’s true, incidentally,” he informed them, stepping forward to stand beside Dean. “There’s other demons’ blood on that blade.”

“Look,” Meg continued, “I’m simpler than you think. I’ve figured one thing out about this world — just one, pretty much. You find a cause, and you serve it. Give yourself over to it, and it orders your life. Lucifer and Yellow Eyes — their mission was it for me.”

“So what?” Dean countered. “We should trust you because you wanted to free Satan from hell?”

“I’m talking ‘cause,’ douchebag, as in reason to get up in the morning.” Meg stepped forward, lips pulling down in a frown as the devil’s trap hindered her approach. “Obviously these things change over time. We learn, we grow. Now, for me currently, the cause is bringing down the King. And I know we’ll all need help to do it.”

Alex snorted at the demon’s words. “Yeah, well, news flash; Crowley isn’t the problem this year. We’ve got something a little bigger.”

“When are you gonna get it?” The demon shot Alex a cold stare, monotone voice vexed as if she were talking to a child that should know better. “Crowley’s always the problem. He’s just waiting for the right moment to strike. I know what I’m suppose to do. And it isn’t screw with Sam or Dean or lose the only angel who’d go bat for me.”

Meg stopped talking, arms crossed, and the room fell silent. A growl dared to resonate through Alex’s chest as the two Winchesters exchanged looks, and Sam stepped forward, rubbing out part of the devil’s trap with his shoe. “This is good,” Castiel decided, breaking the silence. “Harmony and communication. Now our only problem in Hester.”

“What?”

“Well, here, we’re hidden from the Garrison,” the seraph casually explained, “but when you killed a demon, you put out a pretty clear beacon.”

Meg stepped towards Castiel. “We need better angel-proofing _now_ —”

The door was pulled off its hinges and thrown back into the night, and Alex stifled a sound of alarm at the sudden noise, jumping back into the safety of Castiel’s wings. Foreign grace thrummed through the air, thick and sparking with irritation, and Alex spun around at the sharp, “You _took_ the prophet from us?”

Alex immediately recognized Hester, her features darkened with anger and disbelief, and Castiel retracted his wings so they rested against his own back. “Uh . . . sorry?” he offered with a small shrug, and Alex whacked him on the chest with the back her wings, his careless answer not helping.

Hester’s own brown pinions flared high as she stared down at Castiel in shock. “You have fallen in every way imaginable.”

“Please, Castiel.” Another angel’s voice had Alex turning in surprise: Inias. He wasn’t angry like his superior; he sounded sad, almost regretful. “We have to follow code. Help us do our work.”

“He can’t help you,” Dean snapped bitterly at the angel. “He can’t help anyone.”

Alex turned around, ready to defend Castiel, but Hester spoke first. “We don’t need his help,” she informed the hunter cooly. “Or his permission.” The sound of rustling feathers was all that remained of Inias as he flew away, and Alex spun around to try and see where he went. Her eyes landed on a blonde angel with just-as-blonde feathers, but she didn’t know his name. “The Keeper goes to the dessert tonight.”

Inias reappeared a second later, one hand firmly gripping Kevin Tran’s shoulder, and Alex straightened her back, wings starting to rise in a challenge, but Castiel’s wings reached over hers, keeping them down. Hester gave her a contemptuous look, wings rising in a show of dominion. “Keep your bitch in line, Castiel,” she scorned. “Maybe it’s time she learned her place.”

Alex pulled her lips into a snarl, refusing to be intimidated by the angel’s distain. “Let him go!” she growled, rolling her shoulders back as she tried to shake her wings free and flaring them up. Hester’s rose further, but Inias’ wings remained calmly against his back, refusing to accept the young angel’s challenge.

“Whoa whoa whoa.” Dean held out a hand to stop Alex, but turned to confront the angel himself. “Back off. We’re actually trying to clean up one of your angel’s messes! You know that!”

“He’s right,” Castiel assented, looking up from where he was childishly playing with the belt of his trench coat. “An angel brought the Leviathans back into this world, and — and they begged him. They begged him not to do it.”

“Look, just give us some time, okay?” Dean continued. “We will take care of your prophet.”

“Why should _we_ give _you_ anything?” Hester remonstrated. “After everything you’ve taken from us? The very _touch_ of you corrupts. When Castiel first laid hands on you in Hell, he was lost! For that, you’re going to pay.” Her grace crackled through the air as the angel stalked forward towards the Winchester and Alex took a hasty step back.

“Please.” Castiel tried to intervene, guiding her to turn around to face him with his wings. “They’re the ones we were put here to protect.”

“No, Castiel.” Hester shook her head, and when Castiel’s wings pulled back, she smacked him across the face, sending the seraph tumbling down onto the ground. Alex sprang forward, but Inias grabbed her by the arm, pulling her back and using his grace to hold the Winchesters behind him. “No more madness!” Hester grabbed Castiel by the collar of his coat. “No more promises!” She punched him twice in the face, and the seraph’s wings spread out, refusing to fight back. “No more new gods!” She punched him one last time and let him fall back to the ground, and Alex struggled even harder as an angel blade fell into the angel’s hands.

“Hester!” Inias pushed Alex away and reached forward, taking his superior’s arm. “No! Please! There are so few of us left!”

Hester spun around and punched Inias in the face, leaving him to reel back in surprise. “You wanted free will,” she spat down at Castiel. “Now _I’m_ making the choices.”

“No!” Alex leapt forward when the angel raised her weapon, her own blade slipping into her hands. “Cas!” Her wings flared out as she sunk the angel blade into Hester’s back, and immediately pulled back as Hester cried out, her grace spilling from her as white light. Alex jumped away as Hester fell to the ground, dead, wings exploding into flames and ash, and her eyes stayed wide as she looked down at the blood on Castiel’s face. “Cas.” She dropped to her knees in front of him, taking his head in her hands. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” Castiel folded his wings forward to encompass her, and Alex’s eyes fell closed with a small, almost inaudible purr as his grace rested against hers. However, a second later he pulled away and stood up. “I’m sorry about Hester,” he told Inias solemnly, who blinked in surprise.

“I apologize for her actions.” The second blonde angel turned to look at the seraph. “Hester has always had a temper.”

“Who are you?” Alex got to her feet and crossed the room to stand beside Castiel, feathers ruffling in distrust. “I don’t think I’ve seen you before.”

“It’s Alex, correct?” The angel dipped his head, wings falling open in greeting, and Alex squinted in confusion at the gesture usually reserved for the weaker of the two parties. Not sure what else to do, she spread her wings low as well. The angel pulled them back in before he added, “I am Sabrael. I was one of the seven under Castiel, and then under Hester.”

Alex blinked away the confusion that followed his statement. “Right,” she agreed. “Because there’s fifty angels in a garrison. One leader, seven angels under him, and then six angels under each of those seven, right?”

“That’s right,” the angel agreed with a small dip of his head. He looked over at Inais, who was still holding onto Kevin Tran. “Let him be,” he commanded. “We’ll take care of the Keeper as soon as we’re done here.” His wing flicked towards Hester’s body, and Inias nodded, moving to take care of the vessel of their fallen superior. Sabrael turned back to Alex. “It looks like I’ll be taking Hester’s place,” he told her and Castiel. “There’s so few of us seven left. First Uriel, then Balthazar, Handriel, and now Hester. Even the rank under us is growing thin.” Sadness crept into the angel’s features. “Five years ago there was fifty of us; less than half of that remains.”

“I’m sorry.” Castiel’s gaze flickered to the ground, and his feet scuffled uncomfortably on the ground. “I wish it weren’t this way.”

Alex watched as Dean and Sam led Kevin over to the kitchen table, and she reached out to take Castiel’s hand, squeezing it tight before pulling away to leave the two angels to talk. “Hey.” She slid into a seat across from Kevin, and her eyes widened in surprise to see the tablet in front of him. “You fixed the God rock.”

“I . . . don’t know what I did.” Kevin didn’t look up from his notes, and Alex watched him curiously for a few seconds before he chanced a glance upwards. “What?”

“Nothing. You almost done?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Kevin put a hand on the tablet. “I don’t know. It’s kind of . . . hard to read.”

Alex grunted in acknowledgment, head tipping as the prophet went back to his work. He went fast, scrawling down word after word from the chicken scratch on the tablet. It didn’t take the young angel long to get bored, and she stood back up, looking around for her mate.

Castiel was still standing beside Sabrael, but was now talking to Inais, who had already taken care of Hester. “These are strange times,” Inias was saying.

“I think they’ve always been.” Castiel stretched a wing out to encompass Alex’s back when she approached, and she reached down to take his hand.

Inias’ gaze dropped to where their fingers were entwined. “I wish you’d come with us,” he admitted, returning his eyes to Castiel’s face. Alex looked up at well, breath bated as she waited for an answer. Were they seriously offering them a chance to return to heaven? To go home?

Castiel, however, shook his head. “I’m not part of the garrison anymore, Inias,” he told the angel, and Alex couldn’t help the disappointment that tugged on her wings. “I’m sorry.”

Inias and Sabrael hesitated, and Alex felt their gaze flit over her as if they sensed her despondency. “Are you sure?” Inias prompted, and Castiel shook his head.

The two angels waited another second, giving the seraph an opportunity to change his mind, but when Castiel remained firm, the blonde angel took a step back with a dip of his head. “Are you ready, Kevin Tran?” he asked, moving over toward the prophet, and Alex turned her head to see the teen handing Sam the notebook with his writing.

Kevin nodded and stood up, and Inias moved up behind him. A second angel appeared, tawny wings folding in tight as he landed, and Sabrael stepped away to give him room to land. “Bring the Keeper home,” he instructed. “We will watch over him there.”

The two angels nodded and disappeared. After a second, and a quick dip of his head as a farewell to Alex and Castiel, Sabrael followed, wings pushing him into the air.

“I, uh, couldn’t find Meg anywhere.” Dean’s voice had Alex turning to see the hunter standing beside them.

Castiel didn’t sound surprised. “Yes, well, she likes to lay low,” he agreed, dropping Alex’s hand.

“And let’s hope she stays out of the way,” the young angel added with a grumble. “I don’t like her at all.” She looked pointedly up at Castiel with those words, but the angel seemed oblivious.

“Here.” Sam got up from the table, and Alex let her wings fall back down to her side with a sigh. He held out Kevin’s notebook, complete with the tablet’s translation, and read, “ ‘Leviathan cannot be slain but by the bone of a righteous mortal washed in the three bloods of the fallen.’ Uh . . .” Sam quickly skimmed the rest of the page. “It says we need to start with the blood of a fallen angel.”

Three sets of eyes turned to Castiel, who blinked. “Well you know me.” He held up his hand, where a small glass bottle had appeared. “Always happy to bleed for the Winchesters.” He squeezed the bottle in his hand, filling it with the blood of his vessel, infused with his grace. He handed it to Dean Winchester and stepped away.

Dean looked down at the bottle. “What are you gonna do, Cas?”

“I don’t know.” The seraph offered up a genuine smile at the prospect. “Isn’t that amazing?” Large, indigo wings thrust downwards, and then Castiel was gone, leaving Alex alone with the two Winchesters.

Sam and Dean turned back to the notebook, but Alex’s grace cried out in protest. She ran out of the cabin, eyes searching the skies above. “Cas?” she called, black wings spreading out. “Castiel! No! Don’t you dare leave me again!”

“I won’t be gone long.” Castiel’s voice had Alex spinning around, and the seraph pulled his wings in tight. “If you need me, I will come.” He rested his chin on her head when Alex pulled him close, tangling her hands in his trench coat. “I can’t stay,” he finally murmured. “There are places I need to see. And the insects, well, I haven't even begun to truly understand them.” He pulled away, and Alex’s shoulders fell as she realized he was falling back into another of his nonsensical ramblings. “How well do you know the ants?”

“I . . . I don’t really know any ants.”

“I’ve always found them intrepid. Even in the face of danger they put their colony first. It’s remarkable how such tiny creatures are more selfless than humans themselves —”

“Yeah, yeah, okay. Just . . . go.” Alex motioned to the sky, but quickly explained when she saw the quizzical and slightly hurt expression the seraph. “Go . . . watch the ants or whatever. I’ll call you if I need you, okay? Just, please be safe.”

“Of course.” Castiel took off into the sky, and Alex watched him until his blue wings disappeared from sight. Her heart broke at the sight of him leaving, but she shook her head, trying to push the feeling deep down inside. _It’s better this way_ , she told herself as she slowly made her way back towards the cabin. _He just needs time. He needs time to get better._ She sighed and pulled open the cabin door, turning one last time to look up into the sky.

_He will get better._


	44. There Will Be Blood

**July 28th, 2012**

**Whitefish, Montana**

**D** ean’s groan stirred the angel from her thoughts. Alex let out a small vocalized protest when he stretched out, kicking her with his boot-clad foot. She drew her limbs in tight, shooting him an unhappy look. They were seated on the couch in Rufus’ cabin, and Dean was pouring over Kevin Tran’s notebook, searching for something — anything — that could help.

"Okay, man," he finally said, dropping the notebook in exasperation, “I have read this thing more times than the Playboy in Dad’s duffle.”

Sam looked up from the kitchen table. “Anne Nicole?” he slowly guessed.

“Anne Nicole.” Dean nodded, a reminiscent grin on his face. “Oh the good, they die young, huh?” He looked away when Sam answered with a hesitant smile that quickly faded into a grimace. The older brother sighed. “Look, we can read this till our eyes bleed. It ain’t getting any clearer.” He looked over at Alex with a frown. “You’re sure none of this makes any sense to you.”

The young angel shook her head, but reached over and took the notebook. “Uh, ‘cut off the head and the body will flounder,’ ” she read before looking up at Dean. “Well, I think we can all agree that the head is Dick.”

“Right," Dean agreed. “So uh, the bottom line is we go grab the stuff and mix ourselves a weapon.” He leaned forward and grabbed his beer bottle off of the coffee table.

Sam, however, didn’t seem as sure. “Look,” he began, “I’m all for killing Dick. I’m just saying, what then? I mean, what about the rest of the Leviathan? Are they all just gonna . . . drop dead?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

“Maybe?” Sam repeated skeptically. “ ‘Maybe’ is good enough for you right now?”

“One problem at a time, alright?” Dean set his bottle back down with a small thud.

“Okay, but it’s not a crazy idea to figure out what the catch is before we go crashing the gate.” Sam closed the top of his laptop as he looked over at his brother, and Dean gave a small shake of his head.

“Maybe this is the catch,” he suggested, taking the notebook back from Alex. “God's not telling us every detail. You know? The Word _is_ from God. I don't know how much better it's gonna get.” The Winchester shook his head and stood up. “I don’t know. I need a break.”

Alex watched Dean walk away with a shake of her head. “We’ll figure it out,” she promised to Sam. “Soon.”

Sam grunted in agreement, but looked around before changing the subject. “Hey. Have you seen Bobby anywhere? I haven’t seen him since Chicago.”

“Bobby?” Alex flicked her grace out, frowning to find it rippling at the wrong speed. “Dammit. I can only see him when my grace moves at a certain speed,” she explained as she looked around the cabin. “It has something to do with how ghosts are on a different wave of light than we can see at —”

“Infrared,” Sam agreed. “Yeah, I know.”

“It’s hard to keep my grace moving at the right speed.” Alex sped it up, looking about as she felt the change, but didn’t see the ghost of a hunter anywhere. “Huh.” She frowned back at the Winchester. “Must be sulking in the basement or something? I don't know.” The deep, earsplitting crack of glass had the angel looking up. “I take that back.”

She jumped over the back of the couch and moved towards the sound to see Dean Winchester and Bobby Singer standing in the door to the bathroom. Dean was frowning, and his eyes flickered past the ghost to land on Alex. “I’m just sayin’,” Bobby said, his voice strained as he forced himself to calm down. “I have faith that you boys will figure it out." He looked over his shoulder at Alex. “Relax. I’m fine. I just got a little carried away.”

Alex frowned, looking over at the cracked bathroom mirror. “Is that all this is?” She looked back over at Bobby. “Can you stop breaking mirrors? I mean, this place is already crappy enough —”

She cut off when Dean put a hand on her shoulder, and she watched as Bobby stalked away. “Bobby had an idea,” Dean finally said. “Come on.” He led the way back out into the main room where Sam was back on his laptop, watching what sounded like a news report. “Little FYI,” he announced, moving over to the counter to pour himself a glass of whiskey, “Bobby's officing out the john these days.”

“Uh . . . awkward.” Sam looked up from his laptop as Dean sat down across from him.

“You're telling me.” Dean took a sip of his drink as Alex sat down next to him. “Uh, he does have some ideas about the weapon, though.”

“Really? Well, uh, it may be just in time.” Sam turned his laptop so the two could see the screen. It was a news article titled, “Roman Acquires Sucrocorp.”

“Sucrocorp?” Alex read. “What’s that? I haven’t heard of it.”

“They make food additives,” Sam explained, “namely high-fructose corn syrup. That crap’s in — well, it's in just about everything — um, sodas, sauces, bread.”

“Don’t say pie.”

“Definitely pie.”

“Bastards,” Dean cursed, thumping his fist on the table in disbelief. “So now what? Roman’s moved past restaurants?”

“And into groceries, Gas n’ Sips, vending machines.” Sam turned his laptop back around so he could see the screen once again, and Alex’s eyes widened in shock as she realized what Sam was truly saying.

“What can we do about it?”

Sam shook his head. “Short of going all Al Qaeda on their trucks and plants, there’s nothing we can do about it.”

Alex watched as Bobby stalked up and slammed Sam’s laptop shut, and her wings twitched uncomfortably as both Winchesters jumped in surprise. Dean stared down at the closed computer before looking up. “Like I said. Bobby has a few ideas.” When Sam gave him a prompting look he settled down further into his seat and finished off his drink. “Uh, three bloods of the fallen. He’s thinking that’s a fallen angel — Cas — which we have, Crowley, uh, as king of fallen humanity, and as the father of fallen beasts — an Alpha.”

“An Alpha?” Alex repeated, cocking her head. “I thought Crowley and Cas killed them all.”

“Yeah, well, there's only one way to find out.”

“I don't think Cas is going to be very helpful,” Sam slowly admitted, casting Alex an apologetic look at even vocalizing it, but Alex shrugged, letting him know it was okay; he was right, after all.

“Right,” Dean agreed. “Which of course leaves Crowley.”

Sam pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head. “Great.” He let out a long sigh before slamming his palms down on the table. “Okay, let’s get to this.” He stood up and walked over to the counter, and Alex jumped to her feet to clear the table.

She watched as the two brothers compiled the summoning ritual, and then Sam stepped back, a match in his hands. “ _Attenrobendum eos, ad consiendrum, ad ligandum eos, potiter et solvendum, et ad, congregontum eos, 'coram me_ ,” he recited, and dropped a lit match into the bowl. Flames jumped up, and Alex felt the darkness of the King of Hell fill the room, causing her to immediately draw back her grace with a disgusted twitch of her wings.

“Hello, boys. Alex.” The demon held Alex’s gaze for a second, an eyebrow slowly raising, and Alex lifted her wings as well, keeping her face impassive until the demon looked away. “And what is it you so desperately need today?”

“Leviathans," Alex answered bluntly, walking over to the couch to retrieve Kevin's notebook. She tossed it to the demon before returning to the Winchesters. “We need the blood of the three fallen. An angel, King of Hell, and an Alpha. Think you can help us on a some of them?”

The demon studied the notebook. “Where’d you get this?”

“It’s the Word of God.” Alex crossed her arms. “Fun stuff.”

Crowley thumbed through the notebook. “So, that’s what all the ‘rumble rumble’ was about. Who translated it for you?”

“Never mind,” Dean said sharply. “Now are you gonna give us the blood or not?”

“Happily,” the demon promised. “But not quite yet. I’m all for chopping Dick,” he explained when the Winchesters glared, “but I can’t have you running around with a vial of my blood, now can I? You know the sheer number of nefarious spells my enemies can use that blood for?”

Dean folded his arms across his face. “Well, then, when?”

“Last.” The demon handed the notebook back to Alex. “After you’ve got all the other components. Most difficult, the angel, I’m assuming.” He motioned towards Alex. “And I’m assuming you know her blood won’t work. She’s a mutt, after all.” Alex’s wings rose angrily at his words, but the demon didn’t seem to care. “And given your role in their little apocalypse, I can’t imagine the choirboys upstairs are wetting their vestments to do you — what’s the word? — a solid. Unless of course,” he added with a pointed look, “you have an angel up your sleeve.”

“Well, that’d be convenient,” Dean agreed, “but no.”

“Don’t worry about it,” his brother added. “We’ll get the angel blood one way or another. We just need you to be ready next time we call.”

“Fine.” Crowley didn’t seem impressed. “Oh, here’s a tip. I have it on good authority there’s one Alpha still among us.”

“Whose authority?” Dean took a step forward, but the demon barely seemed to care.

“Mine,” he quipped. “Wiley character, that Alpha vampire. Somehow made good his prison break before Cas went nuclear on the place.”

“And you know this how?”

“Keep your friends close, enemies blah blah.” Crowley waved off his thought with a flick of his hand. “Needless to say, I keep tabs. He moves around quite a bit. But I have an inkling I know where to start the Easter-egg hunt. Happy trails.”

The demon vanished, and Alex let out a low growl. “Okay,” Dean yelled after him, “where, jackass!”

Flames sprung up on the table, and Alex jumped in surprise, grace flicking out to kill them before they spread. “That son of a bitch,” she growled, fingers going out to trace the letters charred into the table.

“Hoople, North Dakota,” Sam read, the same frustration in his own voice.

“Piece of paper would have worked,” Dean grumbled. “Fine.” He threw up his hands and stalked over to the couch. “North Dakota. That’s what, half a day’s drive? Give or take a few hours depending on where the hell Hoople is.”

Alex watched as the hunter moved around the cabin, grumbling under his breath as he packed his things. “Guess we’re leaving now,” she half-joked to Sam. When he made a noise of agreement, she hurried off to get her bag.

 

**Hoople, North Dakota**

**T** hey reached town late the next afternoon. Dean pulled the car up to a gas pump at the local Gas n’ Sip, and Alex watched as he and his brother got out of the car. She glanced over at Bobby, who had been sitting beside her the entire ride, but hadn’t said a word. She frowned; he seemed frustrated.

There was a knock on the window, and Dean motioned for her to get out. She did so with a frown, and Dean tossed the flask into the backseat. “What’s up?”

Neither Winchester answered, but started walking towards the building, so with a shrug, Alex followed. “Does Bobby seem angry?” Sam finally asked as he pushed his way into the Gas n’ Sip.

“Angry?" Dean snorted. “Of course he’s angry. If you were Bobby, wouldn’t you be?”

“He’s been a bit frustrated,” Alex offered, running her eyes over the rack of candy by the counter. “He hasn’t really said anything all trip. Come to think of it,” she added with a deep frown, “I’ve barely talked to Bobby since he died.”

Sam let out something sympathetic grunt before asking his brother, “But was he showing signs of fatigue, like — like fritzing?”

“No, actually,” Dean shook his head. “It was just the opposite. He said he never felt stronger.”

Sam ran a hand through his hair. “That’s what I was afraid of.” He glanced out the window at their car, and Alex could see Bobby waiting impatiently in the backseat. “The stronger he gets, the closer he comes to going full vengeful spirit,” he explained, bending over to pick up a metal basket as his brother did the same. “That's reality. We need to talk about what we’re going to do with him?”

“Do with him?” Alex repeated scornfully. “No. What we’re gonna do is take out Dick, and then we’re gonna let Bobby live, understand?” Dean put a gentle hand on her shoulder, and she looked up in surprise. “You’re joking. You’re not on _his_ side, are you?”

“Course not.” Dean looked over at his brother, and his face darkened in anger. “Three weeks ago, you were — you were talking about how this could work. And now — now you want to go all Kevorkian on his ass?”

“I’m just saying that the lore doesn’t have a single real-life example of Casper the Friendly Ghost,” Sam insisted, but Alex could see the reluctance in his hazel eyes. “It’s all basically poltergeists until a hunter comes along . . .”

“Yeah, well, the lore sucks.” Dean moved further down the aisle, and Sam followed on the other side of the shelf, placing something into his basket.

“I’m talking pure hatred, Dean,” he continued. “No humanity. I mean, he could . . . kill . . . possess people. I mean, Bobby could burn this fucking building down.” He let out a sigh when Dean seemed to be ignoring him. “Look, if he goes off the rails —”

“Hey.” Dean cut his brother off, and Sam frowned.

“What?” Alex hurried up to him, rising up on her tiptoes to see over the isles. “What’s going on?”

“Check out that guy over there.” Dean pointed towards a man standing by the hotdog rollers, who was loading his hotdog up with far more mustard than anyone needed. “He seem a little out of it for you?”

“I-I don’t know.” Sam threw up his hands, not happy about how Dean was avoiding talking about Bobby. “Maybe.”

“What about Paula Deen over there?” Alex followed Dean’s gaze to a woman who was staring blankly into the open refrigerator.

“Yeah, they — they look like, uh, like those Turducken people,” Sam agreed, and his eyes went a little wide at the realization. “It’s starting.” He picked up a can of tomato sauce by him and read the label before showing it to Dean and Alex. “It’s the corn syrup. Everything in the store’s laced with it.”

“Everything?” Dean’s face went blank, and he hurried around the shelf to stand next to his brother, Alex close at his heels. “Hey, man, I’m gonna go into toxic shock, okay? I-I . . . I need my road food!” He angrily grabbed a pie to emphasis his point.

“Yeah,” Sam shot back. “That’s what Roman was banking on.”

Alex watched as Dean looked down at the pie in his hands, and his eyes lit up with hesitant hope. “Hey. Hey.” He held it up so his brother could see. “This one says ‘natural.’ Th-th-that mean’s it’s safe. Right?”

Sam took the pie from Dean’s hands and put it away. “Hate to break it to you, but corn syrup _is_ natural, technically.”

Dean’s eyes widened. “Then what the hell are we supposed to eat?”

In response, Sam held up his basket, and Alex wrinkled her nose at the bananas and bottled water. “Oh God. I’m so glad I don’t have to eat anymore.”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t rub it in.” Dean lightly smacked her on the back, and Alex’s wings twitched uncomfortably, but the Winchester didn't even notice. “Let’s just get out of here.”

Sam paid for their food, and Alex led the way back out to the car, sliding into the basket beside Bobby. “Hey.” She gave a forced smile. “How are you feeling?”

Bobby scoffed. “I’m fine,” he insisted, voice scathing as if she were treating him like a child. “In fact, I’m better than ever. Stop worrying about me.” Before Alex could respond he added, “I know what the three of you were doing in there. I’m not an idiot, you know.”

“Bobby —”

“We have a bigger problem here!” the ghost continued angrily. “You’ve seen what Dick’s doing!”

Alex spread her wings out, trying to calm the dead hunter down before he lashed out and scared the Winchesters even more. “We’re working on that,” she promised, gaze flickering over to where the Winchesters were getting into the Plymouth. “Bobby, we’re going to take care of Dick, okay, but it’s just hard to worry about the both of you at the same time.”

“I told you, don’t worry about me.” Bobby’s voice dropped in a low grumble. “Just drive.”

Alex rolled her eyes, but reached over the front seat and grabbed a banana out of Sam’s lap. “Bobby says drive,” she told Dean, knocking him on the side of his head with the banana. “How far away are we anyways?”

Dean looked over at his brother, and Sam shrugged. “An hour,” he finally decided. “On the other side of town.”

 

 **A** lex leaned out the window, wings twitching as she stared at the dark mansion looming up ahead. “That looks pretty vampy,” she agreed, ducking her head back into the car and looking over at the Winchesters. “So. What’s the plan? Should we storm in, guns blazing?”

“It’s totally dark.” Dean put down his binoculars and glanced over at her. “I can’t see inside. Who knows what’s in there.”

“Well, should we wait for daylight?” Sam ran a hand through his hair, and his hazel eyes moved across Alex as she tossed her banana peel out the window.

The angel opened her mouth to scoff, but Bobby beat her to it, leaning forward and growing more opaque. “Hell no, we’re not waiting,” he retorted. “I’ll scout it. See if we need to bring in the big guns.” Suddenly the ghost was gone, and Alex looked around to see him moving off towards the house.

“I don’t know. Look, Bobby . . .” Sam cut off when he realized the ghost was gone, and Alex frowned, leaning forward to rest her head on the front seat. She watched as Sam’s lips twisted downwards in displeasure, but was quickly distracted by the cold chill reappearing beside her.

“Okay. Place is clear,” the hunter informed them. “But there’s something you’re gonna want to see.”

“Uh, okay.” Alex quickly followed the ghost out of the car. The Winchesters followed much more slowly, circling around to the trunk to get their machetes. The young angel’s wings flicked in impatience, but immediately pulled them in tight when she saw something duck out of the corner of her eyes. “Sorry.”

“Not your fault.” Bobby straightened up, eyeing her wings carefully. “They’re, uh . . . nice.”

“It’s just weird seeing them?” Alex guessed. “Yeah, tell me about it. I still feel that way sometimes.” She let her angel blade fall into her hands, grace toying with where it was joined with the metal before adding, “Then again, sometimes I forget I’m such a scrawny person since the wings make me seem . . . you know, bigger.”

None of the hunters knew how to respond, so they simply didn’t. Dean slammed the trunk and rested his machete against his shoulder as he locked the car. “Let’s go. Alex?”

“Yeah, got it.” The angel slipped off ahead of them, twirling her blade in her hand as she slipped through the iron gate and moved up to the front door. It unlocked easily under her touch, and she motioned the Winchesters after her. “I don’t feel anything,” she called behind her as her grace pushed out, and the second the words left her mouth, the angel stopped. “Wait.”

“What is it?” Sam’s voice sounded next to her ear, but Alex didn’t answer, instead following after Bobby as the ghost moved deeper into the house.

“Careful.” Dean moved in front of her as the entered a large dining hall, and Alex stopped in her tracks, letting the Winchester’s arm rest against the top of her chest in a gesture of protection.

Three bodies lay on the magnificent wooden table, and when Dean moved forward Alex shook out her wings, hurrying after him. All three were vampires, and all three were badly burned on the neck and face, as if they had been doused in acid. “They’re dead,” she agreed, stating the obvious. “But what the hell killed them?” She poked the nearest one in the forehead, frowning when Dean protectively knocked her hand away.

“You know a way to kill a vamp with battery acid?” Dean asked Bobby, looking up from the second body.

The ghost seemed just as confounded. “Only way I know is beheading,” he admitted gruffly.

There was a rustle in the walls, and Alex instinctively reached out, fingers closing in the sleeve of Dean’s jacket. “Shh.” Her grace prickled, and the angel tugged Dean after her as she moved towards the far wall. “Something’s back there. Human.”

Dean tore himself away and hurried over to the wall. “See if you can find a switch or something,” he demanded, feeling along the bookshelf. Sam did the same along the mantle, leaving Alex to try and locate the lever with her grace.

Bobby however, just strolled forward. “Don’t need one.” He passed right through the wall, and Alex frowned after him, pushing her grace deeper into the walls to try and find the switch.

“Hey.” Sam’s voice had Alex looking up, and the hunter held up a book and reached into where it had been sitting. There was a click, and wall beside Dean swung open. The Winchesters hurried in, Alex close on their heels, and she let her weapon pull up into her sleeve at the sight of a young woman standing on the far side of the pink room.

Her blue eyes were wide at the sight of all of them, and she was hugging a worn teddy bear close to her chest defensively as she stepped back. She was wearing a thin pink dress and stood barefoot, even though the air held a certain chill.

Sam spoke quietly “Dean. Machete.” He sheathed his own, and Dean stepped forward, doing the same.

“Hey,” he began gently, hands going out to show he was not a threat. “Look. We’re not going to hurt you, okay?” He pulled back his lips to show his teeth before adding, “No fangs. See?”

“We just want to talk,” Sam added. “What’s your name?”

“E-Emily,” the woman stuttered out, eyes still wide at the sight of them. “Who are you?”

“We’re friends.” Dean held out his hand. “I’m Dean, that’s my brother Sam and my friend Alex. Why, uh, don’t we step outside and you can tell us what you’re doing here.”

Emily nodded and took Dean’s hand, and the Winchester led her back out into the main room. The woman shakily sat down in an armchair, and Dean took off his jacket, gently wrapping it around Emily’s bare shoulders. “I was eight,” she quietly began. “My mom left me at the playground while she ran to the store. A man approached me and told me I was the prettiest girl there.” She looked up at the three of them as Alex and Sam sat down on the couch. “And I’ve been living with these . . . things . . . ever since. At least until now.” She caught Dean’s eye and shyly ducked her head once again.

“Do you have any idea why?” Sam’s voice was soft with sympathy and compassion, and he leaned forward when the girl hesitated.

“I’m one of his special girls,” she finally said. “All the others, it was their job to make sure I was ready for the Alpha, whenever he came. Wash me . . . give me IV bags every day. It’s my only food,” she explained when Alex hummed out a noise of confusion. “To keep my blood pure.”

“They’ve been doing this for, what, twelve years?” Dean guessed, anger darkening his face.

Emily shied away from his frustrations. “Virgins are a delicacy. He always has at least one of us on hand.”

Sam shook his head. “Well, don’t worry, okay?” he promised. “We’re going to get you back to your mother.”

“Think she remembers me?”

“Of course she does.” After a second’s pause the Winchester slowly added, “Don’t you remember her?”

Emily shook her head, and Dean’s frown deepened as his gaze drifted past to the table behind them. “Hey,” he began, “these, uh, guys — they friends of yours?” He motioned towards the three corpses, and Emily turned to look at them.

“They take care of the alpha when he’s here,” she explained quietly. “Or did.”

“What happened to them?” Alex stood up, wings twitching uncomfortably as she saw Bobby move towards the table, but she held her tongue.

“About a week ago, they came back from what they said was an easy hunt,” Emily was saying. “Three humans just came, didn’t put up any fight. B-But when they started on them, the vampires screamed in pain. The ones who ate immediately died.”

“And the one’s who didn’t?”

“There was only one.” Emily’s voice grew quiet. “When he saw what happened, he moved to animals. He’s out hunting as we speak.”

At those words, Alex pushed her grace out, immediately on high alert, but she felt nothing. She shook her head when she felt Sam nudge her arm. “Nothing,” she murmured, turning back to the woman.

“Never heard of vamps being allergic to humans before,” Dean told his brother, and Alex nodded in agreement.

“You think maybe it’s in the corn syrup?” Sam suggested. “I mean, think about it. The Gas n’ Sip was lousy with stoners. All ripe for the picking.”

“She did say it was an easy hunt,” Dean agreed.

“So what?” Alex’s face twisted as she thought hard. “You think the Leviathans are doing this on purpose? Maybe . . . maybe take out any competition? That sounds like them.”

The Winchesters exchanged looks, and Sam nodded. “Yeah, that would make a lot of sense.” He turned to Emily, who was listening to their exchange with wide eyes. “Do you know where the Alpha is now?”

“I don’t know,” she insisted weakly, and she shook her head. “M-Maybe. He has this place he goes when something’s wrong. He calls it his retreat.”

“Alright.” Sam pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and unlocked it.

Emily’s eyes grew wider at the sight. “What is that?”

Sam looked up in surprise, but Dean beat him to an answer. “That’s, uh, that’s Sam’s douche tracker,” he half-joked. “Helps us find the Alpha. All we need is an address.”

Once again the young woman shook her head. “I don’t know. But I remember things that might help.”

Sam nodded in understanding. “That’s okay. Just do the best you can.”

Alex’s grace stirred, and she looked around. “We should go,” she told the brothers. “Before the other vamp comes back, you know? I don’t like this place.”

Both Winchesters stood up, and Dean nodded. “Yeah, good idea.”

 

 **I** t was the next morning, and they were still in Hoople. After a long, hushed discussion outside of the car, the Winchesters had finally decided it best to wait for morning in a hotel before they started looking for the Alpha. Alex couldn’t help but agree with their decision; both brothers had looked worn, and she couldn’t think of the last time they had slept.

Dean had pulled the car into the parking lot of a nearby supermarket before they left town upon Sam’s insistence, reminding them they couldn’t eat their typical fast food anymore. “I can’t do this, man,” Dean complained as he pushed his way out of the store. “I can’t live on rabbit food. I-I’m a warrior!”

Sam shook his head with a roll of his eyes. “Dean, you’ll be fine.”

“You don’t know that.”

Sam shook his head again, but clearly wasn’t in the mood to argue. “So what’s next on the list?” he asked instead, shifting the plastic grocery bags from one hand to another.

“Well,” Dean began grumpily, unhappy about the change in subject, “if we’re bum-rushing the Alpha, then we’re gonna need dead man’s blood, which means a morgue, or . . .”

The hunter trailed off, and Alex chanced a look back at him when he didn’t seem like he was going to continue. “Dean?” she prompted. “Or what?” She followed Dean’s gaze across the street to see a large man sitting at the bus stop, mindlessly slurping at a large drink. “Uh . . .”

“Dude, forget the morgue.” Dean looked up at his brother. “We are _swimming_ in vamp poison.”

Sam’s eyes widened in realization, and he looked both ways before he hurried across the street, Alex close on his heels. “Excuse me, sir,” the Winchester began, stopping beside the man. The man barely noticed, still staring distantly across the parking lot. “Hi. We’re, uh, we’re with the Red Cross? See, we have an emergency shortage.” Sam dug into his jacket for a badge as he added, “And we’re gonna need you . . .” The hunter slowly trailed off when he realized the man on the bench wasn’t registering anything. “You’re not getting a word that I’m saying, huh?”

“Hey.” Dean circled in front of the man, snapping his fingers in his face, trying to get a reaction — anything — out of him. When there was nothing, he frowned and demanded. “Hold out your arm. We need your blood.”

“Dude!” Sam snapped out his surprised protest, but the man did as Dean said, sticking his arm out to the side.

“Alright, Sam.” Dean reached into the inside pocket and pulled out a plastic syringe. “Tap the keg?”

“Here?”

“Yeah, Sam, look around. It’s fucking Woodstock. Everybody’s hopped up on the brown acid. We don’t need the song and dance. Give him a little prick.”

Sam frowned, but snatched the syringe from his brother and sat down next to the man. Alex frowned as well, but for a totally different reason. “Why did you have a syringe in your jacket?”

Dean’s answer was, “Precaution.”

The man let out a drawn out “oww” as Sam pushed the syringe into his arm. “That hurts.” He looked over at the Winchester, blinking slowly. “This is for Hurricane Katrina, you said?”

Sam looked at a loss for words, so his brother quickly jumped in. “Yes,” he lied with a quick nod of his head. “Yes, I did.” He shrugged when Alex let out a breath of laughter, not sure what else to do.

“So, uh, look,” Sam began, looking up at the two of them. “When we get there . . .” He looked over at the parked car, and Alex followed his gaze to see Emily sitting in the backseat. Bobby was there as well, unable to leave with the flask locked in the trunk.

“Yeah?” Dean glanced at the car before turning back to Sam.

“Bobby’s gonna have to hang back,” Sam finished. “Do you disagree?”

Alex lifted her wings at the suggestion, frowning at what he was implying. “Sam.”

“He ain’t gonna like it,” Dean agreed with a reluctant shake of his head. “I mean, he helped us in getting Emily.” He cast another look over his shoulder towards the car.

Sam was quick to defend himself. “Look, I’m Team Bobby too, okay? But there’s a reason we left him in the car with Emily. You know that. The more action he sees, the more chance he has to spin out.”

Dean hesitated, but avoided Alex’s gaze as he relented. “Alright, fine. So, we’ll keep him off of the front lines, and he can just, you know, keep calm and carry on, right?”

“And if he can’t?”

Alex opened her mouth to respond, but instead she found herself jumping at the sudden wail of a police car. She flared her wings out, spinning around, but she kept her weapon up her sleeve as she saw the vehicle roll down the street. She tipped her head as the siren cried out in a unique rhythm, and as the car got closer, she frowned.

The song _Why Can’t We Be Friends_ was blaring from the speakers, and the sirens were screaming to the words. The policeman just rolled on by without giving them a second glance, and Alex shook her head. “Everyone’s becoming an idiot,” she muttered, turning back to the Winchesters. Both had a guilty look that was slowly fading as the car passed, and she spoke up before either of them could. “Listen,” she started as Sam pulled the syringe out of the man’s arm. “I get why you think Bobby needs to stay on the sidelines. And I don’t know; you guys have more experience with vengeful spirits than I do, so if you think this is the right call . . .” She shook her head. “Just remember you’re not the one that’s going to have to listen to his grumbling all day.”

“It’s for the best.” Sam stood up and led the way back towards the car. “First thing’s first. We need to find the Alpha.”

Alex grunted in agreement and opened the backseat door. She gave Emily a small smile of acknowledgement as she closed it behind her, reaching for her seatbelt as the Winchesters got in. “What way is the Alpha’s retreat?” Dean asked Emily.

The young woman shifted nervously in her seat. “W-West.”

“West it is.” Dean started the car, and the engine spluttered and coughed as they drove away.

 

 **T** he jerking of the car had Alex stirring back into consciousness. She was curled up in the front seat between Sam and Dean, her head resting on Sam’s thigh, and her legs pressed against Dean’s. She let out a small groan at the motion, and Sam put a calming hand on her side. She curled her wings around him as she pushed closer, squeezing her eyes shut as Dean spoke. “When they hauled you off to vamp camp, do you remember how long the drive was?”

“We left at night,” Emily replied. “Got in before dawn.”

“So, six, seven hours?” Sam guessed, and Alex turned in her seat, burying her head into Sam’s stomach.

The hand returned, silently reminding her to stay still. “Do you remember any highways?”

“No. We only took back roads.”

“Okay.” Alex couldn’t see it, but she imagined the two brothers exchanging knowing looks as Sam said, “So, figure they averaged around 45 miles per hour—”

“Couldn’t have been more than three hundred miles,” Dean finished with a nod.

“What else do you remember?” Alex piped up, reluctantly pulling herself into a sitting position as Sam shifted to dig his phone out of his pocket. She smoothed down her blonde hair as she glanced back towards the young woman.

Emily thought hard about that, and after a second she finally said, “Bells. As we pulled up, I heard these loud bells.”

“It was still dark out?”

“You thinking church?” Dean asked his brother.

Sam, however, shook his head. “No, that’s too early.” He unlocked his phone before he added, “It could have been a monastery. Monks get up at 4am to pray.”

“Ugh.” Dean shifted his grip on the steering wheel in disgust. “Can’t get laid. Can’t sleep in. A fucking tragedy.”

Alex flicked the hunter with her wing, but leaned against Sam’s shoulder as she asked, “So what? You’re thinking that our vampire is holed up in a monastery? Interesting.”

The Winchester shrugged. “It’s as good of a guess as any,” he told her while he pulled up google maps. Alex watched him search for the nearest monastery, and after only a few seconds he cleared his throat. “Looks like there’s just one within three hundred miles,” he told them. “Just outside of, uh, Missoula, Montana.”

“Back to Montana?” Alex waited until she was sure Sam wasn’t going to repocket his phone before she curled back up into him. “We were just in Montana. I don’t like Montana.”

 

**Missoula, Montana**

**I** t wasn’t far to St. Sebastian’s Monastery, and Dean pulled the car up along in front of the front gates just as the clock clicked to 4 am. A second later, the bells sounded, their melodic tolls echoing off of their towers. “This is where he took me.” Emily pushed herself against the window, peering up at the building.

Alex pointed to where a shadow drifted past a lit window. “Vampires,” she confirmed with a flick of her grace. She moved her hand to motion towards the roof. “A lot of them. This is definitely it.”

Emily nodded before looking at the three of them. “What now?’

“We’ll get you someplace safe.” Dean restarted the car, and the engine spluttered. “Then we’ll circle back and Ginsu these leeches.”

“I thought I saw a motel in town,” Alex offered, but trailed off when Sam shook his head.

“We’ll go farther,” he told her. “At least the next town over. We don't want anything happening, right? We’ll find something to eat for breakfast on the way.”

“Fine.” Alex settled back into her seat. “As long as it’s not bananas. I hate bananas. For some reason they make me gag —” She immediately regretted her choice of words when Dean snorted in laughter, shooting her a wink. Alex elbowed him in the ribcage. “That’s not what I meant,” she retorted, which only caused the Winchester to smirk even more. The angel rolled her eyes, thankful for the darkness that hid her blush. “Fuck off, Dean. I was being serious — never mind. Never mind. I’m shutting up.”

She could still see Dean grinning, and the angel curled her wings around her with another roll of her eyes, but the Winchester didn’t keep pushing her. They fell into silence as Dean drove them back to town.

 

 **“H** ere we go.” Dean unlocked the motel door and stepped through, letting it swing open so Alex could follow close behind. “This place looks safe.”

Alex ran her eyes across the room; it was clean, which was nice, and since they were on the second floor, there was no way to enter except through the door. The angel stepped to the side as Emily and Sam entered. Dean dropped his duffle bag on the nearest bed, and Alex heard the clatter of metal as blades knocked against each other.

Emily moved to the other bed and sat down, eyes fixed on the television as she turned it on. Dean pulled out the plastic syringe and walked over to his brother. “Alright, here we go. Ten ccs of Vamptonite.” When Sam raised his eyebrows, he added defensively, “It’s a thing.”

“What’s a Kardashian?” Emily’s soft voice had Alex and Dean turning. The angel looked towards the tv with a shake of her head.

“Oh, that’s, uh . . . just another blood sucker,” Dean joked. However, Emily looked horrified, and the hunter quickly backtracked. “No, it—it’s . . . a joke.”

He moved over to the safe, and Sam took over talking. “Here.” He moved towards Emily and held out a slip of paper. “If we’re not back by dawn, call this number —”

“Sam.” Alex cut him off, putting a small hand on his arm to stop him. “I’ll stay with Emily. She shouldn’t be alone.”

“You’re joking, right?” Dean walked up to her, a scowl crossing his face. “We need all hands on deck here. You can smite every vamp in there, and you want to stay behind?”

“You’re just going there to talk, right?” Alex countered. “How do you think bringing in a celestial being’s going to look? Listen,” she added before the Winchester could respond, “I’ll just be a prayer away, and I can get there in, what, five minutes tops?” Her voice lowered so only the Winchesters could hear. “Besides, this way I can keep an eye on Bobby.”

Sam and Dean exchanged looks, and Dean shook his head but gave in nevertheless. “Fine. We’ll call if there’s any trouble.” He walked over to the wall safe in the closet and pulled it open. “But I’m still putting that in there, understand? He’s not coming out.”

“Of course not.” Alex watched as the Winchester put the flask inside and then locked it. When Dean hesitated, she added, “You guys should go. The sooner we get the blood, the sooner we can gank Roman.”

“Yeah.” Sam brushed past her to grab the duffle bag. “If we’re not back by dawn . . .”

“Yeah, yeah. I know.” Alex stepped aside to let the hunter past. “Have fun storming the castle,” she jokingly called after them as they left the room. The last thing she saw was the humored roll of Dean’s eyes before the door closed.

“You didn’t need to stay behind.”

Emily’s soft voice had the angel turning, and she gave a small shrug. “It’s no problem,” she promised. “The Winchesters will be find on their own.” She saw Bobby appear in the corner of the room; he looked pissed, and Alex immediately slowed her grace down until he faded away, not wanting to deal with his anger. “So, what are we watching?”

“I don’t know.” Emily shifted on the small bed as Alex sat down on the other one, pulling her legs up and under herself. “I . . . haven’t seen television since I was a child.” Alex watched as the young woman shifted again; something was clearly on her mind. “You . . . what did you mean by ‘celestial being?’ ”

There it was. Alex scooted up the bed until she could lean back against the headboard before she spoke, choosing her words carefully. “I’m an angel,” she explained. “Angels, demons, they’re all real.” She didn’t miss the wide-eyed look on the woman’s face, and she sat up straighter. “Don’t worry. Nothing’s going to hurt you. I’m just here to keep you safe.” She watched as Emily stood up, head turning as if she were looking for something. Alex’s face twisted in puzzlement, and eventually asked, “Can I get you anything?”

“I . . . I’m a little hungry,” Emily admitted quietly, keeping her gaze on the ground. “I-I — is there any food left?”

Alex got to her feet, shaking her head. “Sorry, I think Sam ate the last of it,” she apologized. “I, uh . . . I can go get you something if you’d like. There’s a grocery store just down the street. What do you want — it’ll have to be fruit or vegetable though. Long story.”

Emily gave a small, shy shrug. “Maybe just an apple?” she asked, blue eyes peeking up through her lashes hopefully.

“Yeah, sure thing.” Alex moved towards the door, then hesitated. “Why don’t you stay here?” she suggested. “I’ll just be right down the street, but if anything happens just pray to me, okay? I’ll hear it.”

“Thank you.”

“Yeah, no problem.” Alex moved to open the door, frowning when it seemed to be stuck. “Bobby, let me out,” she hissed, huffing when the door sprang open. “Stay here.” She closed the door behind her and locked it with her grace, rolling her eyes at the ghost’s petulance. Then she stuck her hands in her pockets and walked off towards the stairs.

 

 **I** t wasn’t difficult to find an apple, although the angel spent far too much time staring at the fish in the window of the pet store next door before remembering she was on a mission. She rolled the apple in her hands before shaking her head and shooting the colorful fish one last look. “Cas would have liked you,” she whispered before reluctantly pulling herself away.

The street was virtually empty, which the angel found strange, but dismissed it with barely a second thought. Her mind turned back to Castiel, and for a moment she considered calling him there. “Later,” she promised herself, murmuring the word out loud. She slipped through the front door of their motel and hurried up the stairs to their room.

The door was unlocked, and Alex’s wings rose defensively; she knew full well she had locked it when she went out. The angel let her weapon slip into her hand as she slowly pushed it open, and she shoved her grace out to feel for Emily.

Nothing.

Alex flung the door open and rushed into the room. “Emily?” she called, looking desperately around the small room. She rushed over to the window, apple falling to the ground forgotten, but there was no sign of the woman on the streets below. “Shit.” Alex dug her phone out of her pocket. “Shit shit shit.” She was about to dial Dean’s number when she felt something cold, prickling at the back of her neck. She turned her head to see the cracked mirror, and just above it the flickering light of the television.

It was playing an interview with Dick Roman, and Alex drew her wings in close as the room grew colder and colder. “Bobby,” she warned, spinning around to look for the hunter. “What are you do —” A shape flashed in the corner of her eye, and the angel spun around just in time to see something collide into her. The world lurched, and cold waves flooded her body as if the angel had fallen through the ice and into a frozen lake. Everything spun, and in the next second, darkness slammed down on her.

 

 **H** er feet were moving. Why were her feet moving? Alex moved to loll her head back in confusion, but it refused to move. Her eyes snapped open in alarm. “No.”

The words didn’t leave her mouth, and the angel felt panic rising in her chest. She — her body — it was walking down the street away from the motel. Alex tried to stop her feet, but it was like trying to quell a reflex.

 _Alex?_ That was Dean. The angel blinked at his voice; that was what had woken her up. _We need you, dammit. Where are you?_

“B-Bobby,” Alex pulled her grace in tight as ice stirred within her. “Is — is that you?”

Her body stopped beside an appliance store, and Alex saw Bobby where her reflection should be, confirming her fears. “What the hell are you doing?” she hissed, unnerved that her mouth didn’t move. “Dammit, Bobby!”

“This doesn’t concern you,” Bobby snapped tersely. “Dick —”

“This totally concerns me!” the angel yelled. “It’s my fucking body.” She flared her wings out, the only thing she seemed to have control of, and her grace roiled angrily.

 _Alex_.

“Bobby, we have to go back,” Alex begged. “The Winchesters need me. Can’t — can’t you hear them praying? They’re in trouble.” Bobby gave no response, and Alex’s voice shook. “I don’t want to do this, but …” She trailed off when her head turned, gaze locking on the tv. Richard Roman. “Bobby.” She felt the icy chill begin to boil beneath her skin, anger fueling it on and on. “Bobby, please. Don’t.”

The ghost balled her fists, chest heaving at the sight, and Alex flinched away, curling her wings around them. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, squeezing her eyes shut and pulling Lucifer’s grace up to the surface. The second it touched the ghost it reacted, exploding outwards in a fit of fury and possession, twisting and weaving. Alex felt her eyes glow as his grace filled her, and then it pulled back in with a snap, forcing the air out of Alex’s lungs.

Bobby was thrown out onto the sidewalk beside her, just as winded and wide-eyed. “What the hell . . .”

Alex placed her hand against the glass window, head falling down as she struggled to catch her breath and soothed the archangel’s grace within her. It was still swirling defensively, pacing back and forth. “Bobby,” she wheezed out as she straightened up. “Please don’t do this —”

“I’m sorry.” Bobby rushed forward, and the world spun away from her yet again.

 

 _ ** _A_** lex. Where the hell are you?_ Dean’s voice stirred the angel back into consciousness once again. The angel reached up to sooth her pounding head, and then her eyes snapped open in alarm. “Bobby!”

The ghost was gone. So was the flask. Alex desperately felt in her pockets for it, but it was long gone. “No.” The angel stumbled to her feet when Dean’s prayer came through once again. “Dean,” she breathed out, staggering down the sidewalk. “No no no no no.”

Alex tripped over the curb as she moved towards the nearest parking lot. “Cas?” she called as she stumbled once again. “The Winchesters —” she cut herself off as she felt for door handle of an old Accord. “I — never mind.” She shook the thought off as she slid into the car, hands shakily gripping the steering wheel as she took a moment to recover. “I can do this.”

 

 **T** he angel rushed through the halls of St. Sebastian’s monastery, grace reaching out in search of the Winchesters. She threw open a set of closed double doors with her grace and stumbled through, nearly tripping on the rug with a muttered curse.

“Alex.” The slow, deep voice had her looking up in shock. “So nice of you to join us.”

“I-I . . .” Words failed the angel as she stared at the Alpha Vampire before her gaze flitted over the rest of the room. “That’s a Leviathan,” she stammered out lamely, staring at Edgar’s headless body on the ground.

The Alpha hummed in agreement, while the Winchesters just stared, clearly noticing her lack of concentration. “It’s about time,” Dean grumbled. “Where have you been?”

“L-Long story. We really need to talk, guys. Can we just get the blood and go?” Her eyes moved back to the Alpha. “You do know we need your blood to gank the Leviathans, right? They covered that?”

“Yes, they did.” The Alpha motioned her forward with a long finger. When Alex did as he had asked, he picked up a chalice and dragged a long, sharp fingernail across his wrist. The angel watched the crimson drops fall into the cup until the vampire removed his hand. “Take this,” he instructed. “I trust you’ll use it well.”

“Uh, uh . . . yes.” Alex gave a small nod, followed by a more resolute one as her mind caught up. “Uh, yes sir. Totally.” She took the chalice and then retreated several steps to stand beside the brothers, wings shaking out as she forced her way through the fog in her mind.

The Alpha sat back down. “You have my blood. Now go.”

Alex nudged the Winchesters toward the door, ready to get out, but still hesitant to tell them what had just happened.

The Alpha’s voice had her pausing. “What? No ‘thank you?’ ” he scoffed at the brothers. “Oh, right, right. Your flesh is crawling. All you really want to do is kill me now. You hate having to wait and come back and try again.”

“Pretty much.” Dean pointed his machete at Edgar’s body. “I wouldn’t leave that head too close to that body for too long.”

The Alpha’s lips pulled up into a small, amused smile. “See you next season.”

“Looking forward to it.” Dean pushed his way out of the door, and Alex and Sam followed. The angel let the taller hunter take the chalice from her as she stuck her hands in her pockets.

“Hey.” A hand was on her shoulder, and she looked up at Sam. “Everything okay? You seemed a little out of it back there.”

“Um, yeah.” Alex looked away as she stepped over the threshold, feathers ruffling as a sharp breeze tore past. “We have a problem.” She looked up as both Winchesters turned around, and she internally flinched at Dean’s frown. “It’s Bobby, guys. He’s gone.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about my crap posting schedule. I just started working, which means not only am I busy for 8 hours a day, but I now have to get up at 5am. I'll try to get the next chapter as up as soon as possible. 
> 
> Chances are it'll be the last in season 7.


	45. Survival of the Fittest Pt 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter took so long; I've been busy. One chapter left though, and hopefully it won't take as long to write :)

**“D** ammit.” Dean swerved the car down the highway, fingers tightly wrapped around the steering wheel. “Where did Bobby go?” He glanced in the backseat mirror, face dark. “Alex. Where did he go?” 

“I don’t know.” Alex pulled her wings in closer around her. They had searched the entire town, but there had been no sign of the flask or of the hunter himself. “Probably to Dick Roman, I think. I’m sorry, guys. I—”

“It’s not your fault,” Sam reminded with a worried glance at his brother. “There’s nothing you could have done.”

“Yeah,” Dean agreed, although his voice was still terse. “I mean, who knew ghosts could possess angels, huh? I wouldn’t have called that.” His tone softened as he glanced back at the disheartened angel, whose head and shoulders had fallen hurtfully. “You did the best you could, Pip.”

“I should’ve stopped him.” Alex rested her forehead against the cool glass. “What kind of angel am I that lets a ghost take over? It’s my fault he got away.”

“No one’s blaming you for anything,” Sam retorted gently. “No one was expecting Bobby to go AWOL like that. The best thing we can do is finish this weapon and find Dick before him.” Before Alex could respond, he turned to Dean. “Next thing we need is a ‘bone of a righteous mortal.’ ”

“So Alex has to get fucked by a nun,” Dean joked, his laughter ending in an amused snort as Alex kicked the front seat where his back should be. “Ow.” 

“I’m not gonna cut off a nun’s dick you asshole--”

“That’s actually a really good idea.”

“Wait, what?” Both Dean and Alex looked over at Sam, shocked, and Alex opened her mouth to violently protest, but Dean beat her to it. “Wait. I wasn’t actually suggesting she —”

“What? No—no. I, uh, know.” Sam quickly shook his head, rolling his eyes at his brother. “I meant about the nun. Or a monk. You do know nuns are all female, right?" he added with a glance at his brother. "Someone who devoted their life to religion. I mean, who's considered more righteous than them?” 

Dean grunted in reluctant agreement, clearly not proud of the idea even though he came up with it, and turned the car off of the highway. “Fine. But we’re going back to the cabin, okay? I need to sleep for a week.” He must have felt Alex’s frustrations, because he quickly added. “We’ll find Bobby, and we’ll gank Dick. But I really just need a beer and a nap, okay?” 

“Yeah.” Alex settled into the car, wings curling around her as she reluctantly agreed. “That’s fine. You guys need your strength.” The conversation died, and she closed her eyes as she settled down into the backseat. If she could dream, she could let herself forget about this entire mess she had made, and frankly that sounded like a wonderful idea.

 

 **L** ucifer was splayed out on the bed, eyes narrowed in concentration as he held a DVD in one hand, tipping it from side to side and watching the light play off of it in flashes of color. “It’s about time,” he grumbled childishly as Alex appeared, not even looking away from his toy. “You haven’t been sleeping a lot. I don’t like it.” The archangel sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, finally turning his blue gaze to Alex. 

“I’ve . . . been busy.” Alex leaned against the wall, and her wings fell out and down when Lucifer stood. “Let’s see. I’m out of heat, Bobby is missing, Castiel is back, big surprise there —”

“I know.” The archangel sauntered forward, stopping well within her personal space. “And you’ve been fairly unhappy about it too,” he hummed as his large hands came to rest against the wall on either side of her head. “Why’s that?”

“Well, I don’t know. Maybe it’s because you broke his fucking head.” Alex squared her jaw as the archangel’s eyes lit up humorously. “It’s not funny, Luce. He’s like a _child_.”

“And you don’t think you’re good with children.” Lucifer’s wings flared up and curled downwards, blocking out the overhead light and shrinking their world down to just the two of them. “I know, little one.”

“You know this is your fault, right?” Alex poked him in the chest with a deep-set frown. “I-I mean — he’s insane!”

The archangel hummed. “My fault, huh? I left everything intact when I was removed, _enay_. A little beaten down and scared, but he was Castiel.” He reached up and took her wrist, keeping her hand against his chest. “He’s all there.”

“Scared?” Alex tried to pull away, but when the devil didn’t let go she quickly gave up. “The hell did you do to him?” 

“Just reminded him whose you were.” Lucifer leaned closer, gaze dark and predatory as his nose brushed against hers. “We made it very, very clear who you belonged to.”

Alex’s heart leapt to her throat, but she forced herself to roll her eyes, trying to ignore the archangel’s cool breath on her lips. “Is that so?” she quipped instead. “And who exactly do I belong to?” 

Lucifer chuckled. “You belong to me.”

“Mm.” Alex bit back a purr as the archangel’s feathers brushed lovingly against hers, doing her best to remain stolid. “I don’t remember agreeing to that.”

“Your grace says otherwise.” Suddenly Lucifer pulled away, leaving Alex reeling in surprise at his quick departure. The archangel walked over to the bed, and Alex hurried past him, flopping dramatically down on the mattress. 

“My grace says no such thing,” she retorted, staring up at the archangel. “Cas is going to get better, and Cas is going to be my mate.” However, she spread her wings out slightly, shifting her to the far side of the bed as Lucifer sank onto the mattress. She pulled herself into a sitting position, reaching out to card her fingers through his feathers. 

Lucifer’s wings instinctively curled inwards at the light touch, and he gently caught her wrist. “Castiel doesn’t deserve you,” he muttered darkly, shifting closer. “You deserve someone who’s there for you.”

“And he will be there for me,” the young angel promised. “It’s just a little complicated right now.”

The archangel frowned. “You’ve been saying that for the past two years,” he reminded, wings flicking in distrust. He shifted so he was kneeling by her side, his wings curling down around her. 

Alex closed her eyes. “Yeah, well it’s been a complicated two years,” she murmured, accepting a short kiss from the archangel before pulling away. She felt Lucifer frown, but held up the DVD the he had been playing with. “What’s this?”

“Found it downstairs.” Lucifer took it from her hands and ran a finger over the plastic ring in the center. “I have no idea what it’s about, but I thought since you’re here, it’d be interesting to watch.”

“Huh.” Alex tried to take it back, but the devil smacked her hand away. She laughed at his childish actions before asking, “Fine then. At least tell me the name.”

“ _Finding Nemo_.” Lucifer looked over at the young angel when she grinned. “What? I assume it’s about the Roman Emperor —”

“That’s Nero.” Alex’s wings flicked in amusement. “ _Finding Nemo_ is about a cartoon fish looking for his son.” She laughed again at the puzzlement that spread across the archangel’s face, and she leaned over, pressing a short, playful kiss on his lips. “Who knows? You might enjoy it.” She pulled away when Lucifer tried to deepen the kiss, and she rolled her eyes at his disappointed growl. “Come on, Luci.” She held out her hand, ignoring how the archangel frowned. “Let’s go.”

 

**August 2nd, 2012**

**Whitefish, Montana**

**A** lex awoke to find herself laying on a mattress in Rufus’s cabin. Sunlight streamed through the dusty, cracked windows, and the angel yawned, stretching out her limbs and wings and arching her back. She blinked in surprise when she realized Sam must have carried her in, but her dream had left her in too good a mood to be annoyed at what the Winchester had done without her knowledge.

“Morning.”

Alex looked up at Sam’s voice, mouth hanging open for a second as she found her voice. “Morning,” she finally said, flashing him a good-spirited grin. “What’s up?” She got to her feet and moved into the main room after the Winchester. 

Sam shook his head. “Nothing important. We’re leaving in a few hours to go to the old nunnery crypts. They’re about ten hours out, so we should reach them by midnight.” 

Alex grunted in acknowledgement and moved over to the fridge, tugging open the metal door and staring in at its contents, disinterested by what it held. “Sounds good,” she eventually replied. “Where’s Dean?” 

“In town. Picking up a few supplies.” The Winchester stood up and moved over to the half-empty coffee pot. “You don’t have to come with us, you know. Me and Dean can handle it,” he quickly backtracked when Alex quirked an eyebrow quizzically. “You know, if you want stay behind and, uh, I don’t know —”

“It’s fine. And I’ll come with.” Alex closed the fridge door and looked back towards where the mattress lay, the sheets in disarray. “I just . . . Cas will come back when he’s ready. He probably just needs some time to readjust to, you know, being back and all. Lucifer screwed with his head pretty good.” 

“Huh.” Sam poured himself another mug of coffee. “You’re still dreaming about him, right?” 

“Whenever I sleep, yeah.” Alex opened the fridge again and ducked down behind the door, trying to hide the blush that spread over her cheeks as she thought about last night’s dream. Who knew the archangel could be so . . . persistent. “I don’t know. He’s surprisingly . . . good-natured.”

Sam didn’t respond, and Alex peeked over the fridge to see him turn away. She shook her head and walked over to the couch. 

 

 **D** ean came back in a bad mood. Alex looked up as the door slammed shut, and a frown spread across her face when she saw the hunter. “What’s up?” 

“Castiel is what’s up.” Dean’s face twisted into a scowl. “You need to do something about him.”

Alex got to her feet and walked over to him, unable to help the disappointment that shot through her at his words. “You saw Cas?” she asked. “What did he want?”

“He didn’t _want_ anything.” The Winchester grabbed a beer out of the fridge and slammed the door before he launched into his story. “First the Buick gets a flat. I pulled over to the side of the road — in the middle of nowhere —” he reminded with a gesture of his beer. “I’m out in the dirt, changing the damn tire, and then he shows up.” The Winchester pried the bottle cap off of his drink and took a long, frustrated swig. “Normally I don’t mind when he shows up out of thin air; he’s a nice guy, you know?” 

Alex hummed out an agreement, folding her arms across her chest as she leaned against the table. “So what happened?” she prompted when Dean took another long drink. “What did he do?”

“He was naked.” Dean shook his head at the memory, eyes rolling in disbelief. “And he was covered in bees. _Covered_ in them. And he’s just _standing_ there like it’s completely normal. And he says, ‘Hello, Dean.’ ” Here Dean dropped his voice to mockingly imitate Castiel, before adding, “Then he starts rambling on about how — you know what? I don’t even know. Something about pineapples and insects.” Dean stalked away with a dramatic and angry flourish of his hands, muttering under his breath, and Alex watched him go with a frown. 

Footsteps echoed on the stairs as Sam hurried up them. “Dean.” He greeted his brother with a smile. “You about ready to go?” 

“Whatever.” 

The Winchester disappeared out of the cabin, and Sam frowned. “What’s wrong with him?” he asked.

Alex shrugged. “Cas showed up when Dean was changing a tire. It’s a long story,” she promised when she saw his face. “You’ll probably hear it on the way.” She looked over at her worn duffle bag. “Let’s go,” she decided. “Dean can’t stay mad for long.” 

 

 **A** lex shifted in the backseat of the Buick, reluctantly pulling herself out of her deep thoughts when Sam’s voice broke the silence. “Alright. Exit’s in three miles.” 

They were heading straight for the nunnery in northern Wyoming, even though Dean had protested against the trip for the first two hours. And by the looks of it, Dean wanted to start it up again. “I still say this is a bad idea,” he muttered, sliding the car into the right lane on the freeway.

“Dean, it was your idea, and it was the best any of us had.” 

“I said it as a _joke_ ,” Dean reminded, eyes finding Alex’s in the rearview mirror. 

Sam shrugged. “It was a bad joke — good idea.”

“Yeah, only because we got no magic spell, no book — nothing on how to find a fucking ‘righteous bone.’ ”

“We could call Cas,” Sam suggested, and Alex leaned over the front seat to peer out at the darkened road ahead. Her wings flicked as she saw Dean’s frown, and she cocked an eyebrow.

“Dude, I swear on my car, he showed up naked and . . . covered in bees,” Dean reminded with a shake of his head. A low, frustrated sound echoed in his chest at the memory, and he tightened his grip on the steering wheel.

Sam and Alex exchanged looks, and then Sam awkwardly cleared his throat. “Yeah . . . I’m not really sorry I missed that.” 

Dean shook his head again, and reached over to turn on the radio. It crackled to life, and after a few seconds of static a man’s voice could be heard. “— _Hear me out,”_ a woman was insisting, and Alex fell back into her seat.. _“This is a new sector for Roman._ "

 _“That's right. He's holed up at Sucrocorp headquarters right now._ ” At those words Sam and Dean exchanged looks.

_“So sit tight. This –”_

Dean turned the radio off and looked over at his brother. “Holed up at Sucrocorp, huh?” He looked back at Alex. “Looks like we won’t have to find Dick after all.” 

“Yeah,” the angel agreed, “except I bet that place is gonna be a fortress. If Dick knows what we’re doing — and Dick probably knows what we’re doing — he’s going to be doing everything he can to stop us.”

 

 **D** ean led the way into the crypt, a sledgehammer tightly gripped in one hand. Sam followed close behind, carrying a large, old book that held the names of all of the nuns, as well as a short description of their accomplishments. “Alright,” he began, clicking his flashlight on and shining it on the pages. “Here. Listen to this. Sister Mary Benedict, uh, taught the learning-impaired and died at age twenty-three.”

Alex nodded, but Dean shrugged. “Eh, it’s a little young.” He darted his flashlight’s beam over the rows of names on the stone slabs. “Find someone who’s had time to cook.”

“Okay, well, there was, uh . . .” Sam skimmed down the page. “Here — Sister Mary Eunice. Uh, fed the poor, became Mother Superior at age sixty.” 

Once again Dean shook his head. “Sounds political,” he decided. “Power corrupts.” 

Alex looked up at Sam in time to see a small roll of his eyes, but he turned back to the book. “Right . . . um . . . listen to this. Sister Mary Constance; eighty-three years of quiet, humble, nun-like goodness. What do you think?” He held out the book so his brother could see. 

Dean followed Sam’s finger and skimmed the small eulogy. “Wow,” he finally said. “I want to be more righteous just reading that.” 

“Exactly.” 

Alex looked around, eyes falling on the plaque they were looking for. “Sounds good. Here,” she directed, pointing at the name so Dean could find it. 

He walked over to her, hefting the sledgehammer off his shoulder. “Alright. Let’s bone this nun.” Alex giggled Dean looked over at Sam, a small grin on his face, but after seeing Sam’s frown he added a half-hearted apology. “Sorry.” 

Sam rolled his eyes, and Dean swung the sledgehammer down. The iron head smashed through the thin stone barrier, sending pieces flying everywhere. Dean hit it one more time for good measure before he dropped to his knees and peered inside. 

“Grab a femur,” Alex suggested as she crouched down beside him. “Or an arm bone. Those are the strongest, after all.” 

Dean stuck his hand into the grave with a muttered grumble, pulling back once he located a bone. “This good enough?” he asked her, holding up a femur. When Alex nodded, he stood up and handed it to her. “You’re in charge of that,” he instructed as he picked up the sledgehammer. He turned back to Sam. “Now what?” 

Sam closed the book and tucked it under his arm. “Well, we just need one more thing for the spell.” 

 

 **F** lames exploded into life as Dean flicked a match into the old wooden bowl. Sparks flew every which way, and Alex felt the power of the spell push outwards as the Winchesters summoned the King of Hell. Her wings twitched uncomfortably as the silence lengthened, and after several, long, seconds, she cleared her throat. “Isn’t he suppose to show up? Where’s Crowley?” 

“Is he trying to make a . . . grand entrance?” Dean looked around, just as confused, and then his gaze hardened. “Son of a bitch. He’s standing us up?” 

Sam frowned as well. “Well, we summoned him. Doesn’t he kind of have to —”

Dean shook his head, moving to gather up the bowl. “If Crowley wants to screw you, he’ll screw you,” he muttered, moving the things over to the sink.

“Or . . .” Sam countered, “maybe he _can’t_ come ‘cause something’s wrong.” 

Dean was about to retort, but was cut off by a knock on the wooden door. He looked over at it in surprise, and Alex gently pushed her grace out to see what lay beyond. Then she curled her lip in disgust. “Meg.”

Sam went over to open the door, and the demon pushed her way through, gaze dark. “You deal with him,” she snapped at Alex. “I can’t anymore.”

The young angel held Meg’s cold stare, wings ruffling in distaste as Dean said, “You might want to be a little more specific.” 

Meg turned to glare up at him. “I was laying low halfway around the world when emo boy shows up out of nowhere and zaps me right back here,” she huffed, folding her arms across her chest. 

“Why?” 

“Go ask him,” the demon drawled, eyes rolling when Alex frowned. “He was your boyfriend first.” She stalked further into the cabin, and Dean and Alex exchanged looks. Then Alex shook her head with a resigned sigh. 

She pushed her way out of the cabin and into the fresh air. A black car was parked out front, and Alex recognized the song _Vincent_ humming through the speakers. Castiel sat in the front seat, and the young angel ran a hand through her hair at the sight of him. He was staring off into the distance, eyes narrowed as he contemplated something. “Hey, Cas,” she began slowly. “How’s it going?”

Castiel turned to look at her, raising a hand in greeting, and Alex mimicked it, leaning through the open driver’s window.

“Whatcha doing out here?” she asked again when Castiel’s attention seemed to wane, wings twitching in sympathy when the seraph blinked. 

“Well,” he began, head cocking as he thought about what to say, “I’ve been thinking. Monkeys are so . . . clever, and they’re sensible in that they leave the skins on the bananas that they eat. Is it really necessary to test cosmetics on them?” His gaze locked with hers, and he asked, “I mean, how important is lipstick to you, Alex?” 

Alex blinked in surprise. “Uh . . . N-Not very,” she admitted, reaching back to scratch the back of her neck. “Um, listen Cas, why don’t you come inside, huh? The Winchesters just need to ask you a few questions.” She saw how Castiel shifted nervously, and she reached out with her grace to calm him. “We’re not going to make you do anything, Cas. _Ol aisaro._ ” 

_I promise_. Castiel looked up at her Enochian, and after a second he nodded. “Okay.” A push of his wings had him landing right next to Alex with a look of guarded trust dancing in his eyes.

He followed Alex back into the cabin, and both Sam and Dean looked up from where they stood close together, heads bowed in a private conversation. “Hey, Cas.” Dean walked over to the seraph. “How you been?”

“I’ve been fine.” Castiel’s head tilted as he contemplated Dean’s question, but before he could expand upon it, Dean continued. 

“Great. Well, you mind telling us what’s going on?” 

Castiel wandered over to the table. “Now, you understand I don’t participate in aggressive activity,” he began rambling, but almost immediately was distracted. He picked up the femur they had stolen from the crypt and raised it to his nose. The seraph inhaled deeply, and then nodded in consensus. “Mm. Sister Mary Constance,” he praised. “Good choice.”

Dean took a step towards the seraph to get his attention. “Why’d you go to Meg, Cas?” 

Castiel set down the bone. “When I left, I wanted to observe the flowers,” he told them, “and fruit. Flowers come first, obviously. But then I heard nothing from them.” His wings fell as his shoulders drooped, and Alex moved forward in concern. 

Sam didn't seem to pick up on the signal. “You heard nothing from who?” he asked, folding his arms across his chest. 

“The Garrison.”

“What happened to the Garrison?” 

Castiel looked away from Sam, choosing instead to stare at Alex. “Well, finally the silence was deafening,” he told her, “so I went to look . . . at the home of the Prophet. You know, Leviathans can kill angels,” he told the oldest Winchester quite seriously. “There’s a reason Father locked them in Purgatory. They’re the piranha that would eat the whole aquarium.” He turned back to Alex. “They’re gone. The entire Garrison — dead. If there’s anyone left at all, they’re in hiding.”

Alex folded her wings forward, brushing them across her mate’s. “I’m sorry,” she murmured.

“Um, I’m sorry,” Dean echoed, but didn’t sound as sympathetic; other, more pressing matters were clearly on his mind. “If the angels are dead, where’s Kevin?”

“I could steal them from their cages, the monkeys,” Castiel murmured, turning away as an idea lit up his eyes. “But where would I put them all —”

“Hey!” Dean loudly clapped his hands, forcing the seraph to give back his attention. “Focus,” he snapped. “Is Kevin alive?” 

“I don’t want to fight,” Cas insisted, words rushed as his wings rose slightly in defense. Then it was all gone, and they fell back to his side. 

“No, I’m not —” Dean took a long, deep breath, and Alex stepped in. 

“We’re not asking you to fight,” she promised, moving forward to take one of his hands. “We’re just worried, Cas. Is Kevin alive?”

“They took him,” Castiel told her, eyes locked on where their fingers joined. “He’s alive. I felt such responsibility, but he’s in your hands now.”

“Wait.” Dean stepped forward. “Hold on a fucking minute.”

“I feel much better.” Castiel’s body relaxed, and Alex felt the tension leave his wings. She brushed them with hers in a small gesture of comfort, and Castiel opened his mouth to speak. 

“Hey, guys, what’s all this?” Meg spoke first, drawing Alex’s attention to the long-forgotten demon in the room. She was staring at the leftovers from their spell, now piled near the sink. 

“We called Crowley,” Sam explained. 

“You _what?”_

“Don’t worry.” Dean’s voice was scathing as he eyed the bowls. “He never showed.”

“What do you mean he never —”

Dean spread his arms out to motion to the entire cabin. “Do you see him anywhere?” he snapped. “He stood us up.”

Meg wasn’t fazed by the hunter’s anger. “Well, I’m sorry about that, but I’m outie. He could still sh—”

“—show up at any time,” a new, deep voice chimed in, and Alex blinked in surprise to see Crowley standing in the middle of the room. “Hello, boys,” he greeted the Winchesters, eyes alight with pleasure at what he saw. “Sorry I’m late. This _is_ an embarrassment of riches.” His gaze slid past the brothers to rest on Alex and Castiel. However, they flickered over to Meg after a second’s pause. “Stay, won’t you,” he drawled. “There’s really nowhere to run.”

Meg made a mad dash for the door, but in the blink of an eye, Crowley was blocking it, a finger raised to stop her in her tracks. “Don’t even think about smoking out, pussycat. I’ve got eyes all over the place.” 

Alex let out a breath of surprise when Castiel dropped her hand, wings rising as he moved forward to confront the demon. “Leave her be.” 

“Castiel.” Crowley turned to look the seraph up and down. “When we last spoke, you, well, enslaved me. I’m confused. Why aren’t you dead?” 

“I . . . don’t know.” Castiel’s gaze dropped to the ground, and Alex let out a low growl when it moved back up to look at Meg. 

“Well, do you _want_ to be?” Crowley asked coldly. “Because I can help with that —”

“Alright, enough.” Dean stepped forward to cut the two of them off. 

“It’s enough when I say,” Crowley retorted. “I came here to help you. I find out you’ve been lying to me, harboring an angel — and not just any angel; the one angel I want to crush _most_ between my teeth!”

“Oh, so you can crush angels now, huh?” Meg quipped dryly, folding her arms from where she still stood sullenly by the door. 

Crowley turned his head to look back at her. “You bore me. You know that? You have no sense of poetry.” He turned back when Alex snorted in agreement, and his eyebrows cocked as he looked her up and down. However, he said nothing, and turned back to Castiel. “Well?” he demanded. “What do you have to say for yourself?” 

“Well, I’m still, uh, honing my communication strategy,” the seraph began before breaking into one of his ramblings. “I haven’t even been back to Heaven. I-I keep thinking there are no insects up there, but here we have . . . trillions. You know, they’re making honey and silk and . . . miracles, really.” 

“What are you talking about?” Crowley looked past him at Alex, and the young angel just gave a half-hearted shrug. 

“Um, preferring insects to angels, I guess. Here. I can offer you a token, if you like.” He dug into the right pocket of his trench coat and produced a ziplock bag filled with a thick, yellowish substance. “It’s honey,” he explained. “I-I collected it myself.”

Crowley’s face dawned with realization. “You’re off your rocker.” The demon’s voice was filled with amazed disbelief as he looked over at Dean. “He’s off his rocker — is that it? Karma’s a bitch, isn’t it?” Crowley strolled over to the table and picked up a glass of whiskey. He took a sniff, and immediately recoiled, but downed the glass anyways. 

Dean watched him with a frown. “Look, did you come here to donkey-punch your old grudges, or to help us end Dick? Pick a battle.”

“Well, I’m vexed,” Crowley retorted, turning back to them. “I’d like to do both, but where’s the fun in clobbering a ball of wet fur?” His voice rose in anger as he glared at Castiel, but the seraph barely seemed to notice his anger, so the demon looked over at Alex. “Text me when Sparkles here retrieves his marbles, I suppose. Meanwhile . . . a prezzie.”

Crowley reached into his pocket and pulled out a small vial of blood. Sam, however, didn’t seem too convinced with the demon’s honesty. “Really?” he asked. “Just boxed up and ready to go?” 

“I’m a model of efficiency,” the demon quipped. 

“Is that right?” Sam unfolded his arms and took a step forward to stand beside his brother. “Then why were you late?” 

“Dick had me in a devil’s trap. He’s not an idiot. He knows what you three are after.” He shook the vial slightly for emphasis.

Identical frowns sprung up across the brother’s faces. “So what did he offer you?” Sam asked. 

The demon shrugged. “A fair deal,” he answered honestly. “In exchange for giving you the wrong blood. It’s demon, but is it mine?” He shook the vial once again, and the blood sloshed within its glass confinement. He paused, waiting for the Winchesters to think it over before giving them the answer. “It’s mine. Real deal.”

Dean frowned. “And why should we trust you?” he challenged, and he straightened his back to appear even taller. 

Crowley seemed taken aback by the Winchester’s words. “Good God, don’t. Never trust anyone. A lesson I learned from my last business partner,” he added with a glance at the seraph. 

Castiel shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, and Alex moved forward to stand beside him, making sure their shoulders brushed. “Fine,” she said, crossing her arms. “Then give us the blood.” 

“Certainly. Oh, bonus.” Crowley glanced over his shoulder at the demon still sulking behind him. “Meg, I’m gonna scoop you up, take you home, and roast you till you’re jerky.” He turned back when Castiel took a menacing step forward, and his gaze slid over to Alex, an amused look on his face at her mate’s reaction. “But not . . . yet,” he finished, still holding Alex’s gaze even though he was still speaking to Meg. “Cas can have you for now. Hilariously, I think he’d be upset at losing you. And the three of you need Cas to find Dick,” he added to the Winchesters. “Don’t they, Cas?” 

Castiel immediately looked away, his eyes finding the tops of his white slippers. “Oh, I-I don’t fight anymore,” he insisted.

“Come on. Given the particulars of your enemy, sadly, you’re vital.” Before anyone could ask what he meant, Crowley tossed the vial to Sam and disappeared. 

The hunter caught it in surprise, eyes wide as he looked around for the demon, but Crowley was long gone. “Dammit.” 

Alex saw Dean turn towards Castiel, and she immediately grabbed her mate’s hand, knowing full well the question that was going to come. “Hey, Cas,” she quickly said, drawing his attention onto her. “Why don’t we go take a walk, huh? We’ll get out of the Winchesters’ way while they finish up the weapon.” She shot Dean a glare over her shoulder, warning him not to speak, and pulled Castiel towards the door.

“Alex.” Dean stopped her, motioning her forward with a crook of his finger. “One sec.”

Alex turned to the seraph. “I’ll be right there,” she promised. “Meet me outside, okay?” She waited until Castiel left before she moved over to the Winchester, eyebrows raising in surprise to see that Meg was already gone. “I know what you’re going to say,” she began before either brother could speak. “Let me talk to him about it though, okay? He’ll take it better coming from me.”

When Dean nodded, she hurried outside. Castiel was standing near the cars, gaze turned upwards towards the cloudless sky. When the cabin door closed he turned his head. “I’m sorry if I’ve caused an ill-tension between you and the Winchesters,” he apologized. “It wasn’t my intention.”

“Of course it wasn’t.” Alex reached out and took Castiel’s hand in hers. “Come on. I saw a really big anthill just over the ridge there. I’ll show you.” 

That seemed to catch the seraph’s attention, and he willingly followed as Alex led him away. “You seem troubled,” he finally commented as they wove through the thick pines. “Is everything alright?” 

“It's nothing." Alex waved off his question and led him further into the woods, eyes scanning the forest floor for the familiar log that sheltered the anthill. Castiel followed quietly, gaze once again turned upward towards the sky. Spotting the log, Alex turned sharply to the left before she dropped to her knees on the soft pine floor. “I remember you saying that you liked ants,” she commented as Castiel knelt beside her. “Something about them being intrepid and selfless.”

Castiel nodded. “They’re my favorite insect,” he decided. “Well, bees are first, of course, than ants. Third would obviously be cicadas — their harmony is in perfect alignment.”

Alex grunted in agreement, but her attention was more focused on the ants that were climbing over a stick in single file. The whole hill teemed with ants, a perfectly orchestrated chaos. Alex let out a contented sigh as the sun shone down on her wings, and she leaned back into her mate, laying down until her head rested on his thigh. “If you were an insect, you’d be an ant,” she finally told him, tipping her head to look up into Castiel’s eyes. Castiel didn’t reply, so she expounded. “At first, from far away, you don’t look like much. Just another angel following orders. But up close,” she lifted up her hand to watch a single ant crawl across her palm, “up close, you’re strong and brave. You’re selfless; everything you do and have done, it’s always been done for the right reasons, Cas.”

To her surprise, the seraph’s face fell. “You want me to fight,” he murmured, clearly hurt by her words. “That’s why we came out here. I should have expected that, naturally —”

He moved to get up, and Alex immediately moved to stop him. “No no no. Cas. Please stay. I wanted to spend time with you. It feels like I haven’t seen you in _years_.” She smiled as Castiel settled back down. “Thanks.” She reached over and took the seraph’s hand. “Tell me where you’ve been,” she prompted. “What have you done?” 

“I’ve spent most of my time in Norway,” Castiel began quietly. “They have such beautiful flowers there, which of course means that the bees there make the best honey.” 

“Of course,” Alex echoed. “Obviously.”

“I spent some time in Georgia as well.” Castiel looked down into Alex’s face. “They have oranges there, you know. Thousands of orange trees.” 

Alex hummed in agreement, unable to hold back the grin at the genuine interest of her mate. “So I’ve heard,” she joked. “Did you try one?”

The seraph shook his head. “Earthly food has no appeal to me. I did, however, watch their pollination.” Castiel pulled his hand away, watching as Alex’s fingers chased after until he returned it to her grasp. “How is Bobby Singer? I haven’t seen him today.” He quickly sensed Alex’s discomfort because he frowned. “Alex. What’s wrong?”

“Bobby’s not here. He . . . I didn’t know ghosts could possess angels, but, uh . . . I guess they can. But, now he’s gone. We don’t know where.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I’m scared he’s going to confront Roman and get someone hurt.” 

Castiel was silent for several, long seconds, before he murmured, “I told you. I don’t fight anymore.”

“Then at least tell me what Crowley meant by you being vital.” Alex sat up and frowned when Castiel looked away uncomfortably. “Cas. Tell me the truth.”

“I don’t know. Crowley is lying.” The seraph didn’t meet her gaze, and his left wing twitched as he spoke. 

Alex’s eyes immediately hardened. He was lying directly to her face. “You remember that you’re a terrible liar, right?” she snapped angrily, wings flaring out. “Dammit, Cas! Not even Lucifer would lie to me like that. You know that?” 

Castiel’s eyes widened at her rage-fueled words, and his wings thrust downwards as he fled off into the sky. 

“Whoa! Wait wait wait!” Alex jumped to her feet. “Cas? Come back!” The seraph didn’t reappear, and her wings fell. “I’m sorry, okay?” she begged. “But we need your help, Cas. I need you.” Nothing happened, and Alex looked away, gritting her teeth. “Dammit.”

 

 **S** he wandered through the woods until the sun started stretching towards the horizon. It was only then that she opened the cabin door and stepped inside. “Hey, guys.” 

“You okay?” Sam quickly moved forward to greet her. “You’ve been gone a long time.” A hand went out to pull a pine needle out of her blonde hair. 

Alex blinked as it was tugged free. “I’m fine,” she promised. “I . . . might have scared Cas off though.” She looked around the room to see Dean. He was standing at the kitchen table, the four spell ingredients sitting in front of him, and her lips twisted downwards. “You haven’t made the weapon yet?” 

Sam and Dean exchanged a quick look. “We were just about to,” Sam began slowly, “it’s just . . .”

“We have one shot at this,” Dean took over, picking up Kevin Tran’s notebook. “And how do we know that Crowley’s not double-crossing us, huh?” 

Alex offered up a small shrug at the dilemma, and wandered over to the table to pick up one of the vials. “Dunno,” she admitted. “I guess we have to decide who Crowley wants dead more.” She put the vial down. “If I were him, I’d give you guys my blood. This is the only way to kill Dick, who’s probably not going to take lightly to demons in the same hunting grounds, you know? Yeah, you two are a threat, but way easier to kill. No offense,” she quickly added when Dean frowned, although she didn’t really mean it. 

The Winchester just shrugged it off. “I don’t know.” He looked over at Sam, who shook his head. 

“Depends on what Dick offered him,” Sam added, and walked over to stand beside his brother. Alex joined them to find that the femur bone had already been broken in half, one end filed down to a sharp point. “Okay.” Sam picked up the first vial of blood and poured into a bowl. “Um . . . so do we, uh . . .”

“Uh, there’s no magic words.” Dean dropped Kevin’s notebook down on the table. “Nothing. We just — just go.”

“Alright, then.” Sam picked up the bowl of blood and poured it over the bone. Alex watched as he did the same for the rest of the blood, wings twitching as she waited for something to happen, for her to feel the change in the air. 

It didn’t come. 

Clearly Dean felt the same confusion she did. “Where’s all the thunder and lightning?” he asked, looking around the cabin. 

Sam shook his head. “Uh . . . _maybe_ it worked?” 

“Is maybe good enough?” Alex stepped forward with a frown and poked at the bone fragment. “We did everything right, right?” 

“I think so, yeah.” Dean put his hands on his hips, lips pursed in a tight line. “Awesome.”

The fluttering of angel’s wings had Alex spinning around, and a smile broke across her face as she saw Castiel land behind the two Winchesters, three plates containing sandwiches balanced on his arms. Without any preamble, he handed Dean a plate. “So, none of this should cause you any ill effect,” he informed the three of them. “I went to a little farm in Normandy for the wheat and the lettuce and tomato, and — and I thoroughly examined and comforted the pig before I . . . slaughtered it for the ham.”

Dean looked down at the sandwich. “Uh, thanks, Cas.”

Castiel moved to stand in front of Alex. “I . . . don’t know if you still eat, but I made one for you anyways. You shouldn’t have any problem with it, even though I know you don’t like ham —”

“Thanks, Cas.” Alex took the plate, wings folding forward and brushing against his side in a silent gesture of thanks. “I’m sure it’ll be amazing.”

“Hey, Cas.” Sam finally spoke up and turned to face the seraph. “Why was Crowley so certain you needed to come with us?”

Castiel’s blue gaze flickered over Alex’s face before he turned away. “Crowley was wrong,” he lied adamantly. “I’ll be waiting right here.” He held out the last plate to the Winchester. “But please. Accept this sandwich as a gesture of my solidarity.” 

Sam took the plate, and then suddenly Castiel took off. Alex frowned when both Winchesters looked over at her. “He’s lying,” she said, even though she was sure both brothers already knew that. “I don’t know what he’s trying to hide, but he’s adamant about staying behind.” 

Sam and Dean shared a disheartened look, and then Sam shook his head. “Listen,” he finally said, moving off towards the cabin door, “I’m going to go into town and get some provisions. We’re running low.”

He was out the door before anyone responded, and Alex turned back to Dean. “So . . .” she slowly began. “We’re actually doing this, huh?” She looked down at the blood-stained bone and reached up to rub the bridge of her nose. “Great. When are we leaving?” 

“Tomorrow morning. Get there by Thursday night.” Dean pulled his phone out and glanced at the time. “I think I’m going to hit the hay. Try and get a few hours before we start driving.” The Winchester walked over towards the bedroom, but Alex’s voice stopped him.

“Dean? We . . . we’re all going to be okay, right? Us, Cas, Bobby.” The young angel’s voice grew timid as she looked up at the hunter with wide eyes, and she saw Dean’s face soften. 

“Course,” he promised. “Don’t worry, okay, Pip? We’ll make it through this.”

Alex didn’t reply and looked away. She wanted to believe him, but knew just as well as the Winchester that there was no way this would go as they had planned. Things never did. However, she still mumbled out a, “Thanks, Dean.”

“Yep.” Dean disappeared into the bedroom, and after a few seconds Alex followed to find him kicking off his shoes and removing his jacket. The hunter stopped beside the worn bed and looked back at her. “What’s up?”

“Uh, can I . . .” Alex uncomfortably rubbed her arm as she studied the ground. “I sleep better when I’m next to someone a-and after today —”

Dean let out a long sigh. “Come ‘ere.” He rolled onto the bed and scooted towards the wall, turning on his side so Alex could lay down next to him. The young angel did so, curling up against the Winchester. She folded her wings around her as Dean’s arm curled around her waist. He pulled her close, and Alex waited patiently for his restless shifting to cease before she closed her eyes. 

 

**Chicago, Illinois**

**T** he dark sky concealed the black sedan as Dean pulled it up alongside the curb. Alex’s wings twitched uncomfortably as she peered out of the window to see the large glass building of Sucrocorp Industries loom up ahead. The engine died, and the car fell silent bar the quiet clacking of Sam’s keyboard from the front seat. “You got it yet?” Dean asked his brother, and Alex leaned over the front seat to watch the screen. 

“Here we go.” Several windows popped up, and the security feed from the nearby building started flickering through. “Thank you, Charlie, wherever you are.” 

“Got you, Dick,” Dean agreed as a new feed appeared. Alex could clearly make out Dick Roman standing in the meeting room with what Alex presumed to be other Leviathans listening to what he was saying. 

“Yeah, that’s, uh, second floor, and —” Sam cut off in surprise as the security footage changed. “And then — what’s that?” 

Alex made a confused noise as she saw Dick Roman sitting at his desk in his office, typing away at a computer. “What? Is — is that Dick? The hell?” 

“What the hell?” Dean echoed. 

Sam started scrolling through the different camera feeds. “And _that’s_ Dick,” he added when they saw yet a third Dick Roman moving down a hall. He looked over at his brother, and Dean cursed in frustration. 

“Son of a bitch.” Dean watched as Sam moved through the footage, eyes growing darker and darker with each passing second as he counted up the Dick Romans. “Cycle through again,” he finally said when they once more found themselves staring at Roman in his office. 

Sam did so, but Alex looked up when she heard the sound of a truck applying its brakes. She frowned when the driver’s side door opened. Sam heard the door slam, and he looked up as well. “What the hell?” 

Alex threw open the door, wings twitching as she recognized the souls inside. “Oh, God,” she whispered under her breath as she felt Sam grabbed her arm and dragged her back. “Let me go! That’s Bobby!” 

“What?” 

“That’s Bobby in that woman!” Alex watched as the blonde female moved towards Sucrocorp Headquarters. “He’s going for Dick, Sam! Let me go.”

“Wait in the car.” Sam roughly shoved Alex back into the Mercedes, and before Alex could stop him he took off across the street. 

“Sam!” Alex started after him, but Dean was at her side in a second, and Alex struggled as he wrapped his arms around her waist, drawing her back towards the car. “Bobby!” 

“Sh!" A hand found its way over her mouth, and Alex stuck out her tongue to try and drive it away. Dean kept it firmly clamped over her mouth. “Quiet,” he growled. Alex struggled again, and he tightened his grip, crushing the breath out of the angel. “Stop yelling,” he repeated in her ear when she stilled. “Do you want to draw every damn creature here?” 

Alex let out a mumbled noise, and Dean slowly removed his hand. “I can talk him down,” she insisted. “Bobby — he’s not in his right mind, Dean! I don’t want him hurting Sam.”

“Sam’s got this.” Dean slowly loosened his grip on her, but Alex felt him remain tense, ready to go after her if she ran. Her wings twitched, but she decided to stay put. “Come on.” Dean moved to open the car door. “Get in. Let’s keep an eye on Dick, alright? Sam will bring Bobby back.” His voice was soft, but his tone left no room for questions.

Alex looked up into the Winchester’s eyes and reluctantly gave a small nod. “Fine.” She glanced back over her shoulder, but Sam and Bobby were out of sight. She swallowed nervously, but a persistent nudge from Dean had her crawling into the car. She shifted on the cloth seats as Dean joined her in the car, and her gaze was focused on the van where her grace told her Sam was standing. “What’s taking so long?” she fretted as the silence dragged on. 

“I’m sure Sam’s fine,” Dean promised, and Alex heard him drag Sam’s computer onto his lap. “Give him a few minutes.”

A low, displeased noise rumbled in her chest, but Alex did as the Winchester suggested, fingers impatiently drumming on her legs as she stared out the window. She opened her mouth to ask if she could go after Sam, but the words died in her throat when the Winchester suddenly appeared, the blonde woman held tightly in his arms. Her head was hanging and her limbs limp, and Alex jumped out of the car. “What happened?” 

“We need to get to a hospital. Now.” Sam gently laid the woman in the backseat and got into the car, leaving Alex scrambling to do the same. “Dean. Drive!” 

The Mercedes roared to life, and Alex leaned between the front seats. “What happened?” she repeated, grace pressing against Sam, and her eyes widened as she felt his own adrenaline rushing through his veins. “Where’s Bobby? What happened? Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine, yeah.” Even so, Sam reached up to rub his throat. “Bobby . . . he went vengeful.” His voice dropped low until it could barely be heard above the roaring engine. “He tried to kill me. I — I don’t think he wanted to, but it’s like he couldn’t stop himself.” He reached into his jacket pocket and held up the flask. “Dean . . .”

“Don’t say it.” Dean snatched the flask out of Sam’s hands and shoved it into his own pocket. He looked over at his brother, green eyes flashing with grief. “Don’t you fucking say it, you hear me?” 

Sam looked out the window, and Dean drove the car away. 

 

**Whitefish, Montana**

**A** lex was curled up on the couch back at the cabin, wings curled tightly around her. She could feel the building’s other residents; Sam was pacing behind her, and Dean was sitting at the table. She could hear Castiel in the kitchen as well, making them lunch. She gently reached out with her grace to brush against his, seeking comfort, and it pushed back. 

Alex pulled away, unable to take the way his grace would shift and twist against hers in an almost childish and standoffish fashion. She drew it back in as it brushed against the demon in the room, and she pulled her lip up into a snarl. 

“Okay, thanks.” Alex heard Sam’s phone snap shut, and he raised his voice so all could hear. “She’s fine,” he told them. “Checking out of the hospital tonight.”

Alex hummed, thankful that the woman Bobby had possessed was okay, and Castiel voiced his agreement. “Well, that’s positive.”

Meg, however, sounded far less pleased. “Tell me again why you turned tail for some maid. You were right there.”

Alex heard the sound of a plate scraping against the wooden table, and then Castiel was standing in front of her. “Here,” he murmured, holding out a plate with a sandwich. “You need to eat.”

“No, I don’t.” However, Alex reached up and took the plate, head turning as she listened to Sam’s answer as Castiel walked away. 

“— Dick made more Dicks,” he was saying sharply. “He must have kept a chunk of the original Dick Roman somewhere,” he added when both Alex and Dean looked over at him, eyebrows raised. “Uh, they’d all have to touch it.”

There was a moment of silence, and then Dean spoke. “Hey, shifty, what’s your problem?” 

Alex looked up to see Castiel standing at the sink drying dishes, his back to all of them. He was definitely acting ‘shifty,’ as Dean had put it, his feathers ruffling and flattening as he tried to avoid any topic of conversation. “Cas,” she prompted, turning in her seat. “What’s up?”

Castiel turned around, gaze darting around the cabin. “Do we need a cat?” he asked, eyes squinted. “Doesn’t this place feel one species short?” 

Alex frowned at his avoidance, and Dean shifted irritably in his seat. “You got anything to say on the topic of Dicks?” he rephrased. “Crowley was pretty sure you could help —”

Castiel immediately cut him off. “I can’t help. You understand? I can’t. I destroyed . . . everything, and I will destroy everything again. Can we please just leave it at that?” 

Alex let out a long sigh and stood up, but Dean beat her to any words. “No,” he snapped, getting to his feet. “No, we can’t.”

“Dean . . .”

“We can’t leave it,” Dean snapped to his brother before turning back to Castiel. “You let these fucking things in. So you don’t get to make a sandwich. You don’t get a damned cat. Nobody cares that you’re broken, Cas. Clean up your mess!” 

“Dean!” Alex’s wings flared out at the Winchester’s harsh words, and Castiel set down the plate he was drying. 

“Alex.” The seraph stretched his wings out low, blue eyes turning back to the Winchester. “You know . . . we should play Twister.” His wings took him out of the cabin, and Alex let out a sharp breath of frustration. 

“Nice.” Meg’s snarky tone reached her ears. “You scared away the Empire’s only hope.”

Dean turned on the demon with a frown. “Meaning?” 

Meg wasn’t intimidated. “It occur to you that every one of those things was in Cas? He knows them. He can see past the meat suits.”

Sam blinked in realization. “So, he’ll be able to spot the real . . . fake Dick Roman.”

“Gold star, sugarpants. Too bad he’s Fruit Loops.” Meg crossed her arms. “You might’ve had a chance.”

Grace sparked through the air as Castiel reappeared, and Alex turned to see him on the ground, the Twister mat spread across the floor. The angel watched as he reached out to spin the arrow, and she sighed, knowing more hard questions were coming for her mate. “Cas.” She motioned for the seraph to stand. “Come on, handsome. Let’s go for a walk, huh? Let the grown ups talk.” She urged him forward with her wings, and Castiel slowly stood, taking her hand when she offered it. 

“O . . . kay.”

Alex pulled him out of the cabin and towards the trees. “Sorry about that.” She stopped once the cabin was out of sight. “Sam and Dean . . . they’re getting frustrated with you, and I don’t want them to snap. Come here.” She sat down on a log, patting the bark so the seraph would join him. “Maybe we should just chill here until they calm down.”

“You don’t . . . you know why Crowley wants me.” Castiel sat down, hands in his lap and eyes on his hands. 

“Yeah, I do.” Alex folded a wing around his shoulder and shifted closer, reaching out to take his hand in hers. “You can recognize the real Dick Roman. I know, Cas.” She felt the seraph tense, and she let out a long sigh. “Why are you so against fighting?”

“I told you. I destroy everything I touch —”

“It’s not your fault! Everything you’ve done was for the right reasons, Cas. Yeah, you screwed up, but this is your chance to fix it.” She squeezed his hand when the seraph shook his head and looked away. “You might be able to fool Meg, and even the Winchesters, but you can’t fool me. I know you’re not crazy. Lucifer said he left you sane, which means you’re just acting. You’re _lying_ to us so you won’t have to face your mistakes. You’re lying to _me_.”

Castiel remained silent, his attention focused away from her, but Alex knew he heard every word she had said. “It wasn’t my intention to lie to you,” he finally murmured. “But I can’t go with you. I’m not good luck.”

“Good luck?” Alex let out a scoffing noise and tightened her grip on his hand when Castiel tried to pull away. “Cas, none of us are good luck. We’re all cursed. But right now, we need you. Do you understand that? Cursed or not, Cas, you’re all that we’ve got.” 

The seraph didn’t reply for several long seconds, and Alex let go of his hand. “Can I go now?” he finally asked.

The young angel sighed and looked towards the setting sun. “Yeah. Sure.” Castiel stood up, and she added, “Cas? I’m going after Dick, with or without you. And nothing’s going to stop me.”

“I know.” Castiel took off into the sky, and Alex dropped her head into her hands. 

 

 **W** hen she returned to the cabin, neither Sam nor Dean were in sight. “Hello?” The angel closed the door behind her, grace swirling cautiously within her. The cars were still outside, so they didn’t drive into town, and she frowned, puzzled, when neither answered her call. “Sam? Dean?” 

“They’re downstairs.”

Alex spun around at the sound of Bobby’s voice, eyes wide at the sight of the ghost. “B-Bobby. I—”

“Don’t.” The ghost frowned, pale eyes dark with regret. “Listen. I just want you to know that — that I’m sorry, alright?” 

The angel’s eyes darkened, and she took a step forward.“No,” she insisted sharply. “It wasn’t your fault. I’m going to fix you, Bobby—”

“Don’t be stupid. There ain’t no fixing me.” The ghost shook his head, and Alex caught the hint of scornful dismay in his voice. “I can’t control it anymore, you understand? This vengeful crap. It’s like an itch you can’t scratch out, and sooner or later it’s gonna get me. I’m going to hurt someone else if you don’t do something about it. You know what that means.”

“Don’t say that!” Alex’s eyes widened at what he was implying. “You’ll be better once we kill Roman, okay? You just have to hold out a few more days —”

“Alex —”

“Just shut up and let me talk!” The angel’s voice threatened to crack, but she held it back. “Just listen to me for once in your goddamn life, okay?. It’s my fault you died, because I couldn’t do enough. I _should_ have known, and I — I _should_ have stopped it. And I’m never going to forgive myself for that.” Tears prickled at her eyes, and her next words stuck in her throat. “T-This . . . this was suppose to be my second chance to keep you safe. But this . . .”

Bobby let out a long breath and looked away. “I’m sorry,” he finally said. “I shouldn’t have run from my reaper, I know, but I bet the farm I could —”

“I don’t _care!_ I don’t give a damn what you thought! The point is you’re still here. How. . .” Alex shut her eyes as she took in a breath. “I couldn’t live with you dying the first time. H-How can I do it again?”

The hunter didn’t answer. “It’s too late now,” he told her, regret still glowing in his eyes. “I . . . I’m done. Sam and Dean are downstairs burning the flask right now.” 

“ _What?”_ Alex spun around and ran down the stairs, wings slowing her landing as her feet hit the concrete floor. “Dean! Stop!” 

“Hey hey hey.” Sam was there to catch her before she tumbled over, arms wrapping tightly around her. “Calm down, it’s okay.”

Alex peered past him to see the glowing embers; the glowing colors swam as her eyes watered, and she discreetly wiped them on Sam’s shirt before pulling away. “Please don’t do this,” she pleaded as Dean picked up the flask. “I can’t lose him again, Dean. Not now.”

“Don’t listen to her.” Bobby appeared on the other side of the fire, the flames only illuminating his pale skin more. “You know what you got to do, boy. It’s for the best.” 

Alex opened her mouth to beg, but no words came out. She blinked the tears back as she retreated to stand beside Sam.

Bobby nodded, satisfied. “Here’s to . . . running into you guys on the other side. Only . . . not too soon, alright?” He looked at Alex, eyes running over her black wings before finally coming to rest on her face. “And come visit some time, won’t you?”

Alex managed a small nod, but turned away when Dean dropped the flask into the flames. She heard the fire crackle, and the metal shriek in protest, but the angel couldn’t bring herself to look up. Not even when the room lit up with a fiery glow. 

Not even when it died. 

It was only the brush of grace against hers that had Alex raising her head towards the stairs. There Castiel stood, gaze thoughtful and deep with sorrow, and he motioned her forward, retreating upstairs when Alex slowly followed. “I’m sorry about Bobby,” he murmured when Alex pressed her face into his shoulder, and he reached up to rest one hand on her small back. “I feel partly responsible for his death.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Cas.” Alex pushed closer into him, wanting his wings to keep her close, to fold around her and let her forget about the world. “It’s my fault. I couldn’t save him.” 

Castiel didn’t immediately answer, and she pulled away. 

“He was a good man,” the seraph finally said. “I know you owe him much. If there’s anything you need . . .”

Alex sighed and looked down at her feet. “Actually, there, uh, is one thing I’ve been meaning to do,” she finally admitted. “You . . . you can still fly, right?”

 

**May 12, 2012**

**Hammonton, New Jersey**

**F** lames jumped in the grey morning sky, reaching towards the heavens. The wooden pyre beneath popped and crackled as the bark began to split, the only sound in the abandoned clearing. On the top lay a white sheet, obscuring what lay beneath, but Alex knew. It was exactly what she had come to see. A funeral she was long overdue to attend. 

She kept her hands buried deep within her pockets as she watched the fire burn, embers leaping up before falling back to the earth as ash. The angel kept her distance as two, familiar figures stood watching. They stood solemnly, bodies tense and heads hung with pain and sorrow. The shorter one shook his head, and Alex watched as Dean knelt on the ground, hunched over as the grief grew too much to bear.

No words were spoken between the two of them, and Alex stood silently at a distance, watching as the flames moved their macabre dance. She saw Sam turn his head, and she pulled her wings in tighter around her as the Winchester’s dark and heavy gaze passed straight through her and continued on. 

She waited until the pyre had burned down to its embers, until the Winchesters had said their final goodbyes and disappeared back into the woods, before she approached the ashen heap. Acrid smoke bit at her eyes, and her words failed as the tears stung at the lump in her throat, but the angel still knelt down, one hand going out to touch the remains of the last, solid log. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, fingers brushing reverently over the charred and flaking wood. “Bobby, I —” She shook her head as her voice cracked. “I know it’s too late for me to change anything, b-but I’m going to make this right. Roman’s going to die. I . . . I promise you I’ll give everything I have to make sure of it.” Alex squeezed her eyes shut as her stomach twisted. A single sob shook her body and the angel looked up into the ashen morning sky. “I . . I miss you, Bobby. God, I miss you so much.”

A gentle breeze was the only answer to her promise. Alex reluctantly stood up and turned around to see Castiel watching her, a solemn and stoic expression across his face. Alex took a deep breath to steel herself. “Okay,” she decided, and her eyes hardened. “I’m ready. Let’s go.”


	46. Survival of the Fittest pt 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, before we start I just want to say thank you so much for reading. It's been a lot of work to write, but I'm glad I've been able to share a little part of me with you, and I hope that you've enjoyed reading it as much as I have enjoyed writing it. Anyways, I apologize that this chapter took forever to publish, but here it is.

**August 5, 2012**

**Whitefish, Montana**

**D** ean was at the table in Rufus’ cabin when Alex stepped through the front door. The hunter was sitting alone, the room lit only by a single lamp, head bowed as he stared down at the weapon lying on the table. Alex quietly closed the door behind her, and the hunter slowly looked up, green eyes blinking in recognition. “Thought you’d run off again.”

“There was something I needed to take care of.” Alex crossed the room to sit across from the hunter, voice quiet to match the dark and solemn atmosphere. “Where’s Sam?”

“Went into town.” Dean motioned to an empty bottle of whiskey at his side to fill in any blanks. “He should be back soon.”

Alex’s gaze fell down to the two halves of the femur laying in front of them. “What are you doing?” she asked, picking up the one covered in blood as Dean picked up the second. She watched quizzically as he began filing down the end into a sharp point, much like what he had done to the actual weapon. “I don’t understand.”

“We’re making a second weapon,” Dean explained without looking up. “A decoy, actually. Pig’s blood.” He set his knife down when Alex made a curious noise. “Crowley said Dick knows what we’re doing. So if we have any chance of catching him, he needs to be off guard.”

“That’s . . . actually really smart.” Alex put the weapon back on the table. “Was that your idea?” When Dean grunted in acknowledgment, she nodded. “Nice. Very clever.” She slid the femur back over to the Winchester. “So . . . we have a plan, right?”

“Yeah.”

Silence followed Dean’s disinterested answer, and Alex twitched her wings. “Well what is it?” she finally prompted.

“Listen. . .” Dean put down the femur and finally looked up.

“Okay.” Alex immediately held up her hands defensively. “I get it.” She shook her head. “I totally get it. It’s been a long day, so let me just get out of your hair.” She stood up and backed away, frowning at the tired look on Dean’s face even though she knew it was mirrored on her own. “If . . . if you need me, I’ll be down by the lake, okay?”

Dean didn’t respond, and Alex walked away.

She followed the path towards the shimmering lake, footsteps muted by the thick layer of pine needles covering the dirt ground. Her black wings fanned out, feathers hoping to catch the night breeze as it brushed past her. Moonlight danced on the rippling water ahead of her as she paused beside the lakeshore, the lapping of waves and the trilling whistle of the insects the only sounds. Pebbles crunched beneath her canvas shoes as Alex crossed the shoreline to a large rock where she sat down. “Cas?” she prayed aloud, eyes lifted towards the sky, “I-I know you said you were, um, busy, but . . . I wish you were here.” The angel’s wings fell down in disappointment when there was no immediate answer, and she sighed. “Just hurry up and come back, Cas. I miss you.”

 

 **T** he sun peaked over the tree line, and pale lines of golden light stretched out over the water where waves still lapped at the rocky shore. Insects buzzed around her head, and Alex looked up from her hands, blinking in surprise to see that morning had arrived, having been so lost in her own thoughts that the night had seemed only an hour’s length. She looked up to see the dark clouds overhead, promising rain later on, but for the moment the air remained dry. The angel stretched out her wings, wincing as the sore muscles uncurled after so long of being still, and she reluctantly pushed herself to her feet.

The cabin was dark and quiet when Alex approached the front door, the wooden roof leaning to one side and the shutters rotting off their hinges. Still, a warm feeling settled in her stomach at the sight of what had become her home. That feeling immediately shattered into a million shards of ice as she thought about what was yet to come.

She pushed her way into the cabin to see both Sam and Dean sitting at the kitchen table. Sam was on his laptop, but Dean seemed to be fast asleep, head tucked in the crook of his arm. His head snapped up when the door closed, eyes opened wide until he recognized Alex. “Oh.” His shoulders dropped as the hunter relaxed. “You’re back. Where’s Cas?”

“Uh, I don’t know.” The angel frowned with a small shrug and sat down at the table. “Getting us breakfast? Or maybe avoiding us until Dick’s been put down.” Alex reached up to rub the back of her neck as Sam stood up and moved towards the bedroom. “Um . . . Dean? Can I talk with you? In private. I’ve been thinking . . .”

She cut off when Castiel appeared sitting beside her, a board game in his hands.

“Can it wait?” Dean stood up, and Alex frowned.

“Uh, yeah, I guess it can,” she reluctantly agreed, but her wings still twitched in frustration at how Dean was brushing her off.

“Great. Thanks, Pip.” Dean moved past her and put a gentle hand on her shoulder before he stopped in front of Castiel. “Cas, I need a wingman.”

The angel didn’t look up. “Dean . . .”

“You don’t want to jump into the jaws of death, that’s . . . fine. How about we run a little errand?” When Castiel stood up, Dean’s hand returned to her shoulder. “I’ll be back tonight, then we can talk, okay? Promise.”

“Yeah. Thanks, Dean.” Alex waited until he and Castiel had disappeared before her head dropped onto the table, too worn to bother keeping it up.

“You okay?” Sam sat down beside her, and the angel picked up a trace of worry in his voice. “You look a little tired.”

“I am tired.” Alex rested her cheek on her arm as she looked over at the Winchester. “Don’t worry about me, Sam. I . . .” She trailed off and shook her head. “Forget it. Where’d Dean and Cas go?” she asked instead. “Dean seemed in kind of a hurry.”

“He went to get the Impala.” Sam poured himself a mug of coffee and settled down further into his chair. “We’ve come up with a plan.”

“That’s good. Plans are good.” The angel’s wings stretched out, feathers trembling with the strain as she added, “So what _is_ the plan? How are we going to get all of us in without anyone noticing?”

“That’s just it. We’re not. Well, Meg’s not,” Sam backtracked. “She’s going to drive the Impala into Sucrocorp headquarters as a distraction. Dean’s not happy about it either,” he added when Alex’s eyebrows rose. “But it’s the best we can think of. She’ll distract the Leviathans in the front while the rest of us sneak in the back.”

“And they’ll probably think it’s us going through the front because of the Impala,” Alex added with a nod. “Right _._ Yeah, that makes sense. Then what?”

“Then we find Kevin, and we kill Dick. Hopefully we get Cas to come along.” Sam took a sip of his coffee. “You talked to him, right?”

“Yeah, I did.” Alex let out a long sigh and let her head fall back onto the table. “I don’t know. Fingers crossed he comes around. He — Cas’ll come through. I believe in him.”

 

 **W** hen Dean got back, it was late. Alex heard the ever-familiar purr of the Chevy’s engine long before she could see the car through the trees, but she stayed by the window, eyes darting between the pines in hopes to catch a glimpse of the sleek black paint. Only a few minutes later did the Impala pull into view, and the engine died with a throaty splutter. The angel retreated back to the kitchen table as Dean climbed out of the car, and a second later the door clicked open and shut.

“Hey.”

“Hey, Dean.” Alex slid a plate over to the chair across from her and motioned for the hunter to sit down. “Hungry? I made dinner.”

“Uh, thanks.” Dean crossed the room and slumped into the creaky, wooden chair, emerald eyes darting over what lay on his plate. “Where’s Sam?”

“Town. Supply run.” As Alex spoke, thunder rolled through the sky, and the first drops of rain fell onto the wooden shingles above their heads. Alex looked up at the sound but continued speaking as if nothing was wrong, voice quiet and impassive. “He went to get some more of that whiskey — the really good stuff. I guess he figured that, you know, with tomorrow . . .” She hesitated to continue.

Dean nodded in understanding. “He tell you about the plan?” he asked as he looked distastefully down at his glass of water.

“The basics,” Alex answered quietly, fingers playing nervously with the napkin in front of her. “That’s kind of what I —”

“Well, slight change of plans.” Dean spoke over her last sentence, and Alex ran a hand across the top of her hair, frustrated at his interruption. However, she fell silent, letting him continue. The hunter paused as if to give her the chance to speak, but when she didn’t, he rested one elbow on the table and leaned forward. “Cas is in. He says he’s up for it.”

Alex bit back a noise of surprise, “Really? W-What did you say to him?” she asked, eyes narrowing, slightly hurt that her mate had told Dean first.

“According to him, same thing you did. I guess sometimes it just takes being told twice.” Dean shrugged and leaned back. “So here’s what I’m thinking. Sam tell you about Meg?”

“That you’re going to let her drive the Impala?” The angel nodded slowly, rolling her eyes. “Yeah, I heard.”

She didn’t miss the way Dean scowled at her words, but he pushed his antipathy aside. “The four of us will go in,” he continued, voice short and clipped as he quickly relayed their plans. “Me, you, Sam, and Cas. Two of us will find Kevin, the others —”

“Will find Roman,” Alex finished. “And let me guess — Cas gets that job.”

“He’s the one who can spot the real Dick,” Dean agreed. He stood up and walked over to the fridge, and Alex listened as he retrieved a beer. “I’ll go with him. I figured you and Sam would find Kevin — one angel per group seems smart, huh?”

“I guess,” the young angel reluctantly agreed. “Actually, that’s kind of what I wanted to talk about.” She heard Dean pause, and she dropped her shoulders. “Dean, be honest. What’s the chance that we all get out of this alive?”

Alex felt the hunter tense, and when he spoke his voice was firm. “Hundred percent.” Dean sat back down across from her, eyes hard with determination. “We’re all —”

“Dude? I said be honest with me.” Alex shook her head when the confident facade in his gaze faltered. “We don’t have the greatest track record with making it out alive. And this time —” She looked up into Dean’s stoic face, and her words died in her throat. “Sorry,” she finally whispered. “It’s been a r-really tough couple of — of months.”

She felt the hunter’s posture soften at her words, but she didn’t look up. “I know.” Dean’s voice was quiet, and his chair creaked as he shifted his weight forward. “It’s been tough for all of us. But you know as well as I do that we have to keep going—”

“No.” Alex took a deep breath and steadied her voice. “Dean, I don’t know about you and Sam, but I — I _can’t_. Bobby — he was the one person I could always count on to be there. Every time, Dean, every damn time I needed someone, he was there. Whenever you left, or Castiel left, he was always there for me. A-And now he’s _gone_.” Tears stung at her throat, and her voice fell into a quiet whisper as she tried to keep it all in, even as tears rolled down her face. “And next time you leave me, I’ll b-be alone.”

“Alex. We’re not going to leave you.”

Alex turned her head away from Dean’s gaze. “You can’t promise that,” she insisted, voice cracking around the edges. “Not with this life. And I . . . I’m just _done_ , Dean. I’m not a hunter. I was never cut out to be one. I’m tired, I’m . . . I’m done. So just . . . promise me one thing, okay, man? If this thing goes sideways, I want it to be on me. If one of us is going to die, it’s going to be me, because I — I won’t be able to go on if I lose anyone else. I — I’m so close to breaking, Dean, and I know it doesn’t seem like it, but if I lose you — if I lose _Cas_ — I can’t. I just can’t.” The angel’s head fell into her hands. “I can’t live without you guys.”

“Alex —”

“I’m not joking, Dean. What does it matter if I die? I mean, sure, you might be sad, but Cas — he’s lived without me for ten thousand years, and as long as you and Sam have each other . . . Me? You’re all I’ve got. There’s no moving on for me because there’s nothing to move on to.” Alex looked up to see conflict battling in Dean’s eyes, and she ran a hand through her hair. “Let’s get this straight, alright? I-I’m not asking for permission here, Dean. I’m just telling you so you know . . . so you know not to come bringing me back. I don't want to come back. Ever. Please, Dean, promise me that. Just let me stay dead.”

The hunter stared at her for three long seconds, green eyes scanning every inch of her face. Alex could see emotions flitting through his mind, and for a very long moment she thought he was going to get angry, but he finally gave her a resigned nod, and though his voice was uneven, it was strong. “Yeah. I promise.”

Suddenly, the sound of tires crunching on gravel caught her attention. Headlights lit up the night outside as Sam Winchester returned to the cabin. Alex stood up, turning away from Dean as her eyes burned with tears. “I think I’m gonna go to bed,” she mumbled with a trembling voice. “I’m assuming w-we’re leaving early in the morning anyways, so . . .” She let out a breath before slowly adding, “Dean? This . . . this is just between you and me, okay?”

“Yeah.” Alex heard the chair legs scrape against the wooden floor as Dean pushed his seat back. The next thing she knew strong arms were around her, overwhelming her nostrils with the scent of leather and pinewood. Alex’s body trembled with a sob as Dean rested his chin on the top of her head. “I’ll get Cas out safe,” he promised quietly. “But I’m not going to just leave you in there. You . . . you’re our sister, Pip. You know that, right?”

Alex managed to nod, not trusting her voice, and her wings pulled in tight as another sob forced its way past her lips. She squeezed her eyes shut and let Dean hold her for few last seconds before she pulled away, rushing into the bedroom as the cabin door opened. She crawled under the bed sheets and pulled them up over her head as she listened to the quiet voices of the brothers in the other room.

 

 **T** he Impala’s engine rumbled on the lonely highway, headlights illuminating the cracked pavement ahead. The inside of the car was quiet bar the low hum of Metallica through the worn speakers. Both Winchesters sat up front, eyes and attention focused on the road, while Alex lay in the back, face pressed into the worn leather seat, wings curled around her body in an attempt to hide herself.

 _Time for lust, time for lie_  
_Time to kiss your life goodbye_  
_Send me money, send me green_  
_Heaven you will meet_  
_Make a contribution_  
_And you'll --_

“Dean? Can . . . can you turn the music off?”

The music died, and Alex felt two pairs of eyes on her back. Dean turned back to the road without a sound, but Sam’s gaze lingered. “Are you doing okay?” he asked, worry creeping into his voice. “You’ve been really quiet back there.”

“I’m fine, Sam.” Alex kept her face buried in the seat, voice muffled slightly. She pulled her wings tighter as she felt the Winchester frown.

She heard the two brothers exchanged murmured words, and then the leather squeaked as Sam turned to look back at her. “You want to come up here?” he suggested, patting the seat in between him and Dean. “There’s plenty of room.”

“No thanks.” Alex shook her head, nose brushing against the worn leather that smelled of gunpowder and something that was purely Winchester. “I’m fine back here.”

Sam fell silent, and Alex closed her eyes with a sigh. She was going to miss the Winchesters if -- no. The angel blinked hard, shoving the thought away. She wasn’t going to think about that.

“Hey.” Dean’s voice offered a welcome distraction. “Why don’t we stop for the night? I think we should do that.” He turned the car off of the highway, and Alex reluctantly rolled over, pulling her duffle bag up into her arms.

The hunter rolled to a stop beside a stoplight and immediately turned left, guiding the Impala into the parking lot of a motel. Alex crawled out of the car, closing the door behind her before the Winchesters even got theirs open. “I want my own room,” she announced, holding her bag tightly to her chest as she circled around to stand by the car’s hood. The young angel saw how the two brothers exchanged hesitant looks. Alex cleared her throat over the metallic hum of the motel sign above her head, turning their attention back to her. “I . . . I just need some privacy to talk with Cas,” she explained, canvas shoes scuffling on the sidewalk. “Okay?”

Dean nodded, and Sam reluctantly did the same before moving off towards the motel office. Alex looked away when Dean stepped forward, eyes finding their way to where a beetle was crawling across the cracked pavement. “You doing alright?”

“I just need to talk to Cas,” Alex repeated quietly. She chanced a look up at the Winchester, unsurprised to see worry creasing his face. “Listen, what I said last night . . . that stays between you and me, alright? I don’t want Sam knowing.”

Dean’s frown said it all. “You know he’s going to start asking questions, right?”

“I know, it’s just . . . I don’t want him trying to stop me, you know? That’s just going to get him hurt, and that’s exactly what I’m trying to prevent.”

The hunter was silent for a long second. “He’s going to get hurt either way,” he finally said, and Alex looked away, knowing how selfish her own response would sound. Thankfully, she was saved from responding by Sam’s return, and she wordlessly took her key and disappeared into her room.

Her grace flicked on the lights, and the angel locked the door behind her before she tossed her bag onto the nearest bed. “Castiel?” she called, grace pushing out carefully in hopes of an answer. When there was no immediate response, she cleared her throat and tried again, forcing humor into her voice. “Cas, come on. Last night on earth, and I’ll be damned if you choose to spend it with that demon over your own mate.”

There was a flutter of wings and a brush of grace, and Alex turned to see Castiel standing behind her. She let her own wings drop low in greeting, but her shoulders fell when Castiel didn't return the greeting.

“I . . .” The seraph blinked, eyes flickering around the room as if in search of a distraction. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted me here,” he finally said. “I thought —” He cut off when Alex let out a confused snort, head tipping to one side. “What?”

“Why wouldn’t I want you here?” Alex curled her wings forward slightly, spreading her feathers as she invited him to move closer. “I’m your mate, aren’t I?”

Castiel hesitated, and a confused shiver ran down her spine.

“What is it?” The angel stepped forward, eyes narrowed in hurt and concern. “I — don’t you —” She cut herself off when Castiel’s grace flinched away from hers, and a familiar churning of ice stretched through her limbs at the contact. Her eyes widened in realization. “Oh. This — this is about Lucifer, isn’t it? That son of a bitch.” Alex angrily shoved his grace down with a disgusted roll of her eyes and moved forward to stand in front of Castiel. “What did he tell you?”

“He made it . . . exceedingly clear who you had chosen.” The seraph’s face fell, and his wings pulled in tight. “In hindsight I shouldn’t have been surprised, considering how much I’ve pushed you towards him, not to mention how I’ve treated you since —”

“Cas.” Alex curled her wings around the seraph and reached up to lift his chin. “None of that is real, okay? He lied. I’m not choosing Lucifer over you. I’ve _never_ chosen Lucifer over you. I don't know what he told you, or what he showed you, but it’s not true. I’ve already made my choice,” she assured him quietly, “and it’s you.” She moved her hand to cup his jaw, staring into the seraph’s cerulean eyes. “I mean, if you’ll still have me.”

“Of course.” The answer rumbled deep within Castiel’s chest, and Alex smiled. “I will never turn you away,” the seraph promised.

Alex studied his face, gaze moving from his pale lips to his bright eyes before they finally fell on where his wings curled around them. She let her grace curl against his, and her lips pulled into a soft smile. “And I guess that’s why I love you,” she admitted quietly, and even before the words left her mouth, she knew they were true.

“I love you, too.” Castiel’s grace twirled against hers, and Alex reached up, fingers wrapping around the back of his neck as she pulled him into a kiss. The seraph’s lips were still against hers, and after a few seconds he mumbled, “I wasn’t actually expecting this to —”

“Cas? Shut up.” Alex pressed another quick kiss on his lips before she pulled away, moving towards the bed. “You’ll stay, won’t you? I don’t like being alone.”

“Alex.” A soft voice and a tug on her grace had Alex turning back to the seraph, a frown on her face when she saw his somber expression. “This talk . . . is it because of tomorrow?”

Alex made a confused noise, slightly hurt by his allegations, and even more hurt because she knew they were true. However, she still asked, “W-What are you talking about?”

“Tomorrow we go to kill Dick. What you’re doing here —”

“Okay, yeah.” Alex threw up her hands, wings drooping as she stepped closer. “I’m not stupid, Cas. Neither are you. I mean, the chance that we all come out of it alive . . . I just — if something happens, I want our last memory of each other . . . I want it to be a good one, okay? So yes, I wanted to make amends. I . . . I wanted you to know I still care for you, even if it didn’t seem like it.” She looked up into the seraph’s eyes as she shifted forwards even more. “Is that so bad?”

“No.” The seraph hesitated before he repeated himself, this time with more conviction. “No. I understand, but . . . I wish the circumstances were different.”

Alex let out a breath, turning her head away from Castiel. “I just don’t want you to remember me for not loving you,” she murmured. A hand on her shoulder had her wings falling low, but Alex didn’t turn back around, his touch soothing every doubt that she felt. “Come on,” she finally said. “It’s bedtime.”

She heard Castiel follow behind as she laid down on the far bed, curling up so she was facing the far wall. The mattress dipped as the seraph joined her, his heavy wings pulling her close.

Alex felt one arm slip around her waist where it settled, fingers curling chastely in the fabric of her shirt. When it didn’t move, Alex flicked her grace outwards, turning off the lights. “You know,” she began, voice hesitant as if she were unsure she should be speaking, “last time we were facing imminent death you weren’t so calm about . . . you know . . . us.”

She felt Castiel shift uncomfortably behind her. “Last time I . . . wasn’t in my right mind,” he said slowly. “I was desperate and . . . scared to die alone without your grace beside mine. Now, of course, I realize that it was selfish, wanting that, but --”

Alex cut him off with a gentle flick of her wings. “You talk too much,” she teased.

The seraph fell silent. “My apologies,” he finally said, and the bed creaked as he shifted. After a few seconds, Alex shifted as well, rolling onto her stomach and pulling her wings in around her. A minute passed, and then Castiel hesitantly followed, his movements unsure. Alex spread her wings slightly, inviting him to slip between her feathers. The young angel felt herself relax into the mattress as his heavy weight settled on her back. His cheek rested on the back of her neck, and his wings draped over them, keeping them safe. Alex closed her eyes, comforted by his presence, and exhaustion dragged at her limbs. It wasn’t long before she was lulled into sleep, one free from the devil’s hold.

 

**Sucrocorp Industries**

**Chicago, Indiana**

**A** lex followed Dean over the chainlink fence, wings flaring out to steady herself as she fell onto the grass below. Her shoulder landed on her angel blade, and she let out a muffled curse as she rolled off of it.

“You okay?” Sam landed crouched on his feet beside her, one hand extending slightly to help her up.

Alex ignored it, rolling to her knees and dusting the dirt off of her clothes. “I’m fine,” she promised, dropping her weapon on the grass to finish cleaning off her shirt. “It can’t hurt me as long as my grace is attached. Or some shit like that.” She got to her feet and picked up her angel blade, feeling as her grace collided and coiled around the warm metal. She didn't stop to ask if that was what the Winchester had meant by his question, instead choosing to move up to Dean. “Well?”

Dean didn't immediately answer, and Alex followed his gaze to the building that lay ahead. Sucrocorp Industries. It stood tall and stark against the horizon, and Alex squinted against the light that glinted off of its sides. She turned back to see that Dean was looking down at his watch. In the distance, she heard the screeching of tires just as Dean nodded. “Let’s go.”

Alex followed both Winchesters towards the back door of Sucrocorp. Castiel followed close at her heels but pushed past her when they reached the building. Alex felt his grace slip out to unlock the door just as she heard the shattering of glass from the front of the building, followed by a loud barrage of bullets. “Looks like Meg got their attention,” she muttered up to Dean, knowing full well the Winchester’s feelings towards the demon driving his car. She didn’t need to see his face to feel the glare he shot at her.

Sam entered the building first, and Dean motioned for Alex to follow close behind. She did so, and let her angel blade fall into her hands as she stepped into the hall. “Alex.” Dean’s voice had her turning back around. “With Sam. Go find Kevin.”

“Dean.” Anger flared in Alex’s gaze, but it was silenced by a look from Dean.

“Go with Sam,” he repeated, this time with more force, and his tone reminded Alex they had had this conversation twice before.

A hand on her shoulder stopped Alex from responding, and she watched as Dean and Castiel disappeared around a corner. “It makes sense, you know,” Sam said quietly as he guided her away. Alex shook off his hand after a few seconds, preferring to walk alone. “Splitting up the angels. Unless you think I’m not —”

“This isn’t personal, Sam.” Alex stalked off ahead, leaving the Winchester to hurry after. She pushed her grace outwards, weaving through the walls to seek out the soul of Kevin Tran. She halted in her tracks as she heard a door open behind her, and spun around to see Sam peering inside a conference room. “The hell are you doing?” she hissed irritably, voice low so it wouldn’t carry.

Sam pulled his head out of the doorway, eyes crinkled slightly in confusion. “Looking for Kevin.”

Alex brought a fist up to her forehead, thumb pressed against her brow as she lifted her pinky to sign the word for idiot. “I can _feel_  the prophet,” she retorted, dropping her hand back to her side. “He’s not on this floor.” She rolled her eyes as Sam closed the door behind him. “Let’s just get Kevin and get you guys out.”

She hurried towards the stairs before Sam could question her wording. She unlocked the door to the stairs and bounded up them, wings tense as she scoured the floor above for any sign of leviathans.

She felt their taint fill the air and held back, one hand going out to bar Sam’s passage as she paused beside the fourth- floor door. She heard the footsteps approach, and then just as quickly they disappeared, the clicking of their heels fading into the distance. The angel waited two more seconds, just to be sure, before she clicked open the door and peered out. “Clear,” she whispered back to the Winchester.

Sam pushed his way through and hurried off down one of the halls, and Alex huffed in protest before running after. She watched as Sam peered through door 427 and used that opportunity to take the lead. “Here.” She beckoned the Winchester with a crook of a finger and pointed towards a door at the end of the hall. “Kevin’s in there.”

Sam burst through the door, and Alex let her weapon pull back up into her sleeve as she followed close at his heels. She found Kevin Tran in the middle of the room, gagged and tied to a wooden chair, and her wings rose, grace prickling as she felt around for a trap. It looked like it had to be one, but still, she felt nothing. The young angel relaxed if only slightly, moving further into the room to stand in front of the prophet.

“Kevin.” Sam’s face twisted in deep concern. “Hey, buddy. We got to hustle, okay?” He started tearing at the ropes, and Alex brushed against his broad shoulder as she leaned in, touching the ropes with a light finger. The fiber strands unwound, and the prophet’s bonds fell away.

Kevin Tran watched them with wide eyes, and his voice came out in a hurried breath. “Wait,” he insisted as Sam tore away the tape over his mouth. “We can’t leave yet.”

“Uh, yeah, we can.” Sam helped the prophet out of his seat, not quite understanding what he was talking about. “It’s okay. We got to go.”

“You don’t understand.” Kevin pulled himself free from the Winchester’s grasp in protest. “Dick’s got creamer in his lab. He’s going to kill all the skinny people.”

“What?” Alex pulled up in her tracks, eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

“We have to blow up that lab.” The prophet looked between the angel and the hunter. “We have to stop him, guys.”

Sam looked over at Alex, and the young angel rolled her shoulders back. “New plan,” she decided. “You get Kevin out of here, and I’ll go blow up the lab.”

She ran towards the door, but Sam was there first, slamming it in her face. “Wait wait wait.” The hunter held out a hand to stop her. “No. That’s not what’s happening. We’re going in together.”

“Sam —”

“No. I’m not leaving.”

“I-I’m not going either,” Kevin put in, voice trembling despite his confident bravado.

Alex’s frown deepened, and she tried to pull open the door, but Sam held it shut tight. “Sam, let me go,” she half-pleaded. “Get Kevin to safety. I can take care of it.”

“We’re not going anywhere without Dean.” Sam let go of the door, but his voice remained strong. “We’re going down to the lab, so either you can go with us, or you can go ahead of us.”

The angel defiantly raised her head. “Fine,” she huffed. “I’ll clear a path, then. Don’t fall too far behind.” And with that, she threw open the door and rushed out. She felt Sam and Kevin close at her heels, and she thrust her wings to try and go faster. _Castiel?_ she prayed. _Where are you?_

 _Alex._ The deep, quiet voice rumbled through her mind, concern lacing that single word. _What’s wrong?_

 _I need to get to the lab. We’re heading there now._ Alex spun around a corner and ran headfirst into a solid body. The angel reeled back at the foul stench, and her grace exploded outwards and into the leviathan out of pure fear and instinct. It took the primordial creature by surprise, and it fell backwards, a gasp leaving the man’s mouth as he hit the ground.

Alex ran. Her feet slipped on the tile floor as she tore down the stairs as Castiel’s voice rang through her head. _Second floor. Dick is here. Please don’t come._

 _Not a chance. I’m not letting anything happen to you._ The angel jumped over the railing and landed on the flight of stairs below, wings flared to help her stop. _Come on, Cas. I’m not letting you die. N-Not without me._ Unbidden, the thoughts left her head before she could stop them. _I can’t live without you, Castiel._

There was no response. Alex pushed her legs harder, barreling through the door as she heard Sam and Kevin hurry down the stairs after her. Her grace shoved outwards, searching for Castiel’s, and the minute she found it she curled around it, holding it close as she followed it to its source. “Castiel?” she called at the top of her lungs, but she didn’t hear an answer.

She slid to a stop in the open doorway and froze. In front of her stood Dick Roman. Dark eyes locked with hers, and a sly grin crossed his face.

Castiel moved from the corner of her eye, using that single moment of distraction to grab Roman by the hair pull his head back, and Dean rushed forward as he yanked the bone from his jacket and shoved it through Dick Roman’s neck.

The action took less than a second, too short for either Roman or Alex to react, and the entire room went still. Then Dick’s mouth fell open in surprise, and his body started to twitch.

Dean took a step back as Roman continued to shake and thrash, uncertainty flashing across his dark face. The Leviathan threw its head back, jaws extending towards the ceiling as it bellowed in protest, and Alex stepped forward as Sam and Kevin crowded the doorway behind her.

“Cas!” she called, wings stretching outwards; they trembled with relief to see both him and Dean alive and well. “Cas, I —”

“Alex.” Castiel turned to look at her, and he held up a hand to stop her in her tracks. “Stay still.”

The young angel watched as Roman continued to pulse, and she could _see_ the vibrations in the air. Black goo dripped from his mouth and nose, and she felt his heart rate triple its pace, shaking the air. Alex took a step back, unnerved by the sight, and her wings pulled in close. “Cas . . .” she began. “What’s he doing?”

Castiel moved forward, and his grace wrapped comfortingly around her own, holding her tight and calming her down. “Alex.” His voice was deep and quiet. “I —”

Suddenly, the pulses stopped, and Dick laughed a low, dark chuckle.

The room exploded into blackness, and Alex was flung backwards, letting out a loud cry as her head struck the wall. Black slime splattered her skin, the dark and sinister taint sinking down to her bone. The angel let out a cry of pain and staggered to her feet, brushing the darkness off of her as fast as she could as she looked around.

The angel stepped backwards, eyes going wide at what lay in front of her. “No no no. What?” The room was empty. No Dick, no Dean. No Castiel. “No. _No_. T-That’s not possible.” She spun around to see Sam and Kevin standing behind her, the Winchester still sheltering the prophet with his body. “W-Where’d they go? _Sam_.”

“I-I-I don’t know.” The hunter’s face was slack with shock as he stared at the empty room. “I don’t know. How --”

“No. This — This isn’t happening.” Alex rushed forward into the room, spinning around as she desperately pushed her grace outwards. “This _can’t_ happen,” she repeated as she turned back to Sam, eyes wide, and when she spoke again, her voice broke. “We _won_ , Sam. We killed Dick. How—I—no.” The angel’s body trembled violently. “T-They’re gone. Where are they?”

She saw Sam’s mouth open, like he was going to speak, but she didn’t wait to find out. They were gone. _Gone_. After she had promised — She needed to find them. Now. Her wings thrust down with a power she had never felt, and then she was rocketing upwards and into the night air. Her wings beat rapidly, her sleek black feathers dispersing the cold clouds as she flew higher and higher. “Cas?” she yelled. “Castiel!”

 _They can’t be far. They must have been thrown somewhere_ , she prayed desperately. _L-Like a banishing sigil._

“Castiel!” she cried again. “Dean!” Her grace exploded outwards in a flash of light, scouring the ground below for her mate. “Castiel!”

The angel dipped down and flew in a wide circle, and time seemed to slow as her wings carried her across the land. Her grace swept despairingly over the ground, but she felt nothing. They weren’t there. “No!”

Panic gripped at her chest and forced the air out of her lungs. They couldn’t just be gone. Not like this. Dean had _promised_. This wasn’t supposed to happen to them. It was supposed to be her.

The sky blurred as tears filled her vision, but Alex forced herself to go faster. The muscles in her wings burned, and her grace shook with the strain, but she pushed it even further out. “Please,” she pleaded. “Let them be there.” The angel squeezed her eyes shut, focusing as hard as she could until it hurt. “Father, let them be alive.”

Her wings gave out, too weak to carry her any further, and the angel fell. The ground approached at a dizzying speed as she tumbled head over heels towards the forest below. Her back hit the dirt ground with a bone-crunching thud, and the angel tumbled down the wooded hill and onto a paved road. Her muscles burned and her heart pounded, and Alex rolled onto her front as her stomach heaved, but nothing but a wet sob came out. How could this be happening? She rolled onto her back as her body quivered in pain and exhaustion. Why was she still alive?

“Castiel, please,” she whispered, staring up into the night sky. “You’re not dead. You’re _not_. Where are you?”

 

 **T** he air grew cold as the night dragged on, but Alex didn’t move. Her grace stitched her cuts and mended her bruises, and slowly the physical ache dispersed, but that only made the emotional pain that much harder to bare. Castiel didn’t come for her, and Alex stared at the pines above her head, unblinking, replaying the same scene over and over again in her head. She could have saved them. She could have gotten them to move away -- she could have moved closer and died with them, but she didn’t. She had just _stood_ there.

She could hear Sam Winchester; he was praying for her to come back, that Crowley had taken the prophet and that he was all alone, but she ignored him. It was her fault. Tears rolled down her cheeks, and the angel curled up on the cold pavement as her last wall caved in, letting the repressed emotions inside flood her body. She had lost everyone she cared about. Her mother, her father, her foster family. Ellen, Jo, Carton. Lisa, Ben, Balthazar. Bobby, Dean.

Castiel.

The angel rested her cheek against the ground, fingers digging into the rocky asphalt as her body convulsed in a sob. Her grace twisted restlessly within her body, and not even the cold stir of the devil within her could restrain it. “I can’t do this,” she gasped out. “I-I — I can’t.”

She felt the skin on her fingertips scrape and tear as she clawed at the ground, desperately looking for something to hold onto, but there was nothing. Thunder cracked above her head, and the angel shuddered as the air shook.

“God,” she whispered desperately, trembling as the wind picked up. “ _Father_. I’m sorry b-but — I can’t . . . if you don’t save me . . .” The angel looked up into the dark sky, and her wings trembled. “If you don’t save me I’m going to kill myself.”

She waited, breath held and body shaking, but there was no answer from the clouds overhead. The angel hung her head, and thunder rolled through the sky followed by a gust of wind that shook the pine boughs.

 _He doesn’t care_. Alex rolled onto her knees, looking down to see her grace healing her torn skin and broken nails. _I don’t deserve to be saved._

The angel pulled herself onto shaky feet, face upturned to the sky above. “I don’t deserve to be saved,” she repeated, and her eyes clouded with tears as she let her angel blade fall into her hand.

The angel pulled herself onto shaky feet, face upturned to the sky above. “I don’t deserve to be alive,” she added, and her eyes clouded with tears as she let her angel blade fall into her hand. Lightning flashed, its cold light glinting off of the metal, and Alex raised the tip of her angel blade to rest under her jaw. A shaky sob left her lips as she pulled her grace away from her weapon, and the metal immediately bit into her skin, threatening death.

Alex welcomed it.

Tears rolled down her cheeks as she looked up into the night sky. Thunder cracked, and the heavens opened up, pouring their sorrows upon the earth. Alex closed her eyes, unable to watch as the rain slammed against the pavement. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I-I can’t do this. Not without him.” Grief pressed down on her chest, and Alex let it in, let it flood her senses and leave her breathless. Then it faded, and everything was calm. Everything seemed so clear. The angel pressed the metal tip further into her skin, and her grace welcomed it. Alex took one last breath and looked up into the sky. “I’m sorry, Cas.”

A sharp, shrill wail broke the silence, startling the quiet world, and the forest lit up with a white, holy light. Then the light died, fading out with a crack of thunder. The angel blade fell from the angel’s hands and clattered to the pavement. Alex’s wings flared out in alarm, eyes wide at the sudden and loud intrusion from the woods.

The land fell silent once again, but only a second later came another cry, this one high-pitched and keening, but it almost sounded . . . no. It couldn’t be. _What?_ Alex stooped to pick up her angel blade, something possessive stirring quietly inside her at the helpless sound. “Uh, h-hello?” she called softly. She hesitated, shifting her weight back and forth as she debated whether to pursue the sound. The noise came again, and Alex couldn’t help but move off after it.

The crying continued, growing louder as Alex drew nearer, until she finally pushed through some bramble and found herself in a small clearing. Moonlight gave enough light to see clearly by, and as Alex stepped into view, the wailing fell into a low whimper. Alex knelt down to pull aside the long grass, and her wings curled forward at what she saw.

An infant lay in the grass, clothed in white. Blue eyes went wide at the sight of the strange angel above him, and a whimper died in his mouth. But that wasn't the first thing Alex noticed.

Soft grey wings were pulled in tight, the small feathers plastered to its wings by the rain. Alex reached out and scooped the fledgling into her arms, her wings instinctively curling down to protect the child from the wind and the rain. “What are you doing out here all alone in the rain?” she murmured in confusion, grace swelling to soothe and dry the fledgling in her arms. “Where’s your momma?”

The fledgling’s eyes watered at Alex’s voice, and its small wings fluttered as its mouth fell open in another cry.

Alex let her instincts take over, and she cradled the child, grace wrapping securely around him. “It’s okay,” she promised, blinking water out of her eyes. “It’s okay. We’re going to find your mom.” She looked up, grace prickling through the air. “Hello?" she called, moving further into the woods. “Is anyone there?"

Her grace felt it before she saw it, and the angel paused at the top of a ridge, peering down into the valley below. Her grip tightened on the fledgling as she made out the shape of a female body lying on the slope. Blood stained her white clothes, and the dense undergrowth was charred in the unmistakable shape of wings.

Alex turned away, sheltering the child from the gruesome sight. “Oh God. You poor thing,” she murmured. “What happened to you?” The fledgling cooed, reaching for her wings, and Alex let him tug on her feathers. “It’s okay,” she said once again. “I . . . I guess we’ll just have to find your father, sweetheart.” Chubby fingers wrapped around her feathers, and Alex smiled, grace swelling at the affection, and she glanced back towards the road from which she had come. Her gaze swung around the desolate woods, and the dark shadows lit up with a crack of lightning.

Alex tightened her grip on the fledgling as a gust of wind drove the rain into them even harder, and the child cried in distress. The angel curled her wings in even tighter around them. “We need to get you out of the rain,” she decided, and the fledgling gripped her shirt in its chubby hands. “I’ll take care of you,” she promised, eyes narrowed as she looked up through the blinding rain.

She carried him into the clearing, running a hand through his soft blonde hair. “You know, I lost someone close to me, too. You and me, I guess we’re all we have left.”

The fledgling sniffled, and Alex ran a hand through her wet hair. “Okay. Let’s get you out of the rain.” She reluctantly let her wings fall away from the fledgling, hugging him closer to compensate as she thrust her wings downwards and pushed the both of them into the air. “Let’s go someplace safe.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be posting the next part of this series in the story "Desolation Comes Upon the Sky" (yes, still with the Ed Sheeran lyrics). If you're interested in reading that too, I've created a story so you can bookmark it.


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